SONG  VICTORIES 


WITH    1UOGKAP1UCAL    SKETCHES    OF 

IRA  D.  SANKEY  Afcfo  P-  P.  BLISS. 


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PRINCETON  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 


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SONG  VICTORIES 

0F  L  DEC  31 1935 

V 

"THE  BLISS  AND  SANKEY 


BEING  A  COLLECTION  OF  ONE  HUNDRED  INCI- 
DENTS IN  REGARD  TO  THE  ORIGIN  AND 
POWER  OF  THE  HYMNS  CONTAINED 
IN  "GOSPEL  HYMNS  AND 
SACRED  SONGS." 


WITH  AN  INTRODUCTORY-LETTER 
By  REV.  GEO.  F.  PENTECOST,  D.D. 

AND  AN  APPENDIX 

CONTAINING    BIOGRAPHICAL    SKETCHES   OF 

MR.  IRA  D.  SANKEY  and  MR.  P.  P.  BLISS. 


^Boston: 
Published  by  (D.  Xotkrop  &  Co. 

(Dover,  JJ.  H.:  G.  T.  Qay  &  Co. 


Copyright  by 
D.  LOTHROP  &  CO. 

1877. 


TO 

the  sin  am  a  evangelists, 

THIS   LITTLE  BOOK 

IS  DEDICATED,  WITH  THE   PRAYER  THAT 

IT  MAY  LEAD  OTHERS  TO 

SING    THE    GOSPEL. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


http://archive.org/details/victortOOpent 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

Introductory  Letter 7 

[What  a  Pastor  has  Felt  and  Seen  of  the  Power  of  Sacred  Song .] 

The  Power  of  Song  upon  Childhood.   ...  8 

Power  of  Song  in  Young  Manhood.      .     -  .       .  fl 

Song  as  a  Deliverer 11 

Song  as  a  Help  to  Consecration.         ...  15 

Song  as  a  Means  of  Conversion.          ...  17 

Hymns  in  Public  Worship 19 

Hymns  in  the  Prayer-Meeting 20 

The  Power  of  Song  in  the  Kevtval  Work  of 

Moody  and  Sankey 21 

Hymn  Incidents, 31 

Consecrated  Voices 123 

Appendix 129 

Biographical  Sketch  of  Mr.  I.  D.  Sankey.      .        .        .  129 

Biographical  Sketch  of  Mr.  P.  P.  Bliss.        .        .        .     139 

3 


ALPHABETICAL  INDEX 

OF 

HYMN     INCIDENTS. 


PAGE 

Almost  persuaded, 115 

All  hail  the  power  of  Jesus'  name,        ....      91 
Arise,  my  soul,  arise, 118 

Brightly  beams  our  Father's  mercy,       ....      48 

Come  home!    come  home! 46 

Come  thou  Fount  of  every  blessing,       .        .        .        .119 

Depths  of  mercy!  can  there  be, 108 

Free  from  the  law,  oh  happy  condition,         .        .        .    112 

Guide  me,  O  thou  Great  Jehovah,         .        .        .        .112 

Have  you  on  the  Lord  believed  ? 106 

Hold  the  fort, 47 

I  am  coming  to  the  cross, 51 

I  am  so  glad  that  our  Father  in  heaven,         ...      31 
4 


ALPHABETICAL   INDEX. 


I  gave  my  life  for  thee,  . 
I  hear  the  Saviour  say,  . 
In  the  Christian's  home  in  glory, 

Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul, 

Just  as  I  am  without  one  plea, 

Light  in  the  darkness,  sailor, 
Lord,  I  hear  of  showers  of  blessing, 

My  faith  looks  up  to  Thee, 

Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee, 

O  for  a  thousand  tongues  to  sing,   . 
Only  an  armor-bearer, 

Praise  God,  from  whom  all  blessings  flow, 


Ring  the  bells  of  heaven, 
Rock  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me, 

Safe  in  the  arms  of  Jesus, 

Sowing  the  seed  by  the  daylight  fair, 

Stand  up,  stand  up  for  Jesus, 

There  is  a  fountain  filled  with  blood, 
There  is  a  gate  that  stands  ajar, 


PAGE 

60 
43 
55 

62 
120 

50 
57 

102 

100 

98 
51 

122 

53 

80 

58 

37 

119 

93 
43 


6  ALPHABETICAL  INDEX. 

PAGE 

There  is  a  land  of  pure  delight, 116 

There  were  ninety  and  nine, 107 

To-day  the  Saviour  calls, 60 

What  means  this  eager,  anxious  throng  ?  .        .40 

Yet  there  is  room  I  the  Lamb's  bright  hall  of  song,      .      45 


INTRODUCTORY   LETTER. 


1  Sing  ye  praises  with  the  understanding." 


"  Our  days  of  praise  shall  ne'er  be  past 

While  life  and  thought  and  being  last, 

Or  immortality  endures." 


I  have  fancied  sometimes  the  Bethel-bent  beam 

That  trembled  to  earth  in  the  Patriarch's  dream, 

Was  a  ladder  of  song  in  that  wilderness  rest 

From  the  pillow  of  stone  to  the  blue  of  the  Blest, 

And  the  angels  descending  to  dwell  with  us  here, 

"  Old  Hundred,"  and  "Corinth,"  and  " China,"  and  "3Iear.' 


WHAT  A  PASTOR   HAS   FELT   AND    SEEN  OF   THE 
POWER    OF   SACRED   SONG. 

BY    REV.    GEO.   F.    PENTECOST,    OF    BOSTON. 

My  Dear  Brother : 

You  ask  me  to  give  you,  from  my  own 
personal  experience  and  observation,  any  facts 


8  TBOPHIES   OF  SONG. 

in  relation  to  the  use  and  power  of  sacred  song 
in  connection  with  the  work  of  the  Holy 
Spirit  for  the  conversion  and  sanctification  of 
sinners ;  and  I  most  gladly  bear  my  testimony. 
I  presume  my  experience  is  not  different 
in  kind  from  that  of  all  other  Christians  who 
have  submitted  themselves  to  God  under  this 
wonderful  instrument  of  the  Spirit. 

THE   POWER   OF    SONG   UPON   CHILDHOOD. 

Some  of  my  earliest  religious  awakenings 
were  in  connection  with  the  hymns  for  chil- 
dren that  were  just  beginning  to  be  sung  in 
the  Sabbath-schools  when  I  was  yet  a  little 
boy.     I   mention   one   beginning: 

"I  think  when  I  read  that  sweet  story  of  old, 

WTien  Jesus  was  here  among  men, 
How  He  called  little  children  like  lambs  to  His  fold : 

I  should  like  to  have  been  with  them  then." 

That  little  hymn  would  always  quiet  me 
and  beget  within  my  heart  seriousness  and 
longing.  When  as  a  child  I  used  to  hear  or 
sing  it,  I  would  wonder  if  there  was  any  bless- 
ing that  I  might  have  from  Jesus  that  would 
correspond  to  His  calling  little  children  to  Him, 


TROPHIES   OF   SONG.  9 

and  laying  His  gentle,  loving  hands  on  their 
heads  and  blessing  them.  And  in  after  years, 
when  I  had  grown  to  be  a  young  man,  away 
from  home,  and  far  from  God  by  wicked 
works,  that  little  hymn  of  my  childhood 
would  often  come  to  my  memory;  and  more 
than  once  I  have  sung  it  with  choking  voice 
and  tearful  eye,  and  with  motions  of  real 
penitence  in  my  heart.  It  is  true  that  these 
effects  were  transient,  but  they  were  real  and 
mighty ;  and  I  doubt  not  that  God  used  that 
child's  hymn  and  the  sweet  echoes  of  many 
others  —  now  forgotten  —  to  keep  my  heart 
from  becoming  perfectly  hardened  against  His 
"  gentle  voice." 

POWEB  OF  SOXG  IN  YOUNG  MANHOOD. 

To-day,  on  looking  back  over  the  fourteen 
years  that  have  passed  since  I  gave  my  life  to 
Jesus,  among  the  precious  recollections  of 
those  happy  days  I  recall  a  few  dear  old  hymns 
that  sung  themselves  into  my  heart,  and  taught 
me  truths  of  God  that  otherwise  I  might  not 
have  learned,  and  led  me  to  the  sources  of 
joy  and   delight   which  otherwise  I  might  not 


10  TEOPHIES   OF   SONG. 

have  found.  I  can  hear  those  voices  now,  that; 
used  to  lead  the  singing  in  that  blessed  revival 
time.  Some  of  them,  it  is  true,  were  poor  and 
cracked  and  discordant  —  it  was  a  congrega- 
tion of  "  common  people"  —  and  would  have 
utterly  spoiled  and  ruined  any  songs  other  than 
those  of  the  sanctuary,  that  were  sung  in 
those  hours  of  the  Spirit's  presence  and  power, 
with  hearts  making  melody  to  the  Lord.  I 
think  it  was  the  singing  of  that  simple  old 
hymn  and  chorus  —  which  I  now  quote  —  that 
awakened  in  me  the  desire  to  be  a  Christian, 
by  setting  before  me  its  promise  of  "  sweetest 
pleasure"  and  " solid  comfort"  in  strong  con- 
trast with  the  unsatisfying  portions  I  was  get- 
ting from  worldly  pleasures,  and  the  fear  and 
dread  of  death  that  was  so  constantly  before 
me:  — 

"  "Tis  religion  that  can  give, 
In  the  light,  in  the  light, 
Sweetest  pleasure  while  we  live; 
In  the  light  of  God. 

'Tis  religion  must  supply, 

In  the  light,  in  the  light, 
Solid  comfort  when  we  die, 

In  the  light  of  God. 


TROPHIES   OF   SONG.  11 

Let  us  walk  in  the  light, 

In  the  light,  in  the  light, 
Let  us  walk  in  the  light, 

In  the  light  of  God." 

Eternity  only  will  reveal  the  power  that 
hymn  had  over  me,  both  in  bringing  me  to 
God,  and  in  strengthening  and  encouraging 
me  in  the  first  days  of  trial  and  temptation 
that  came  to  me  as  a  young  Christian. 

Time  would  fail  me  to  speak  at  length 
of  my  experimental  relations  to  those  old 
classics, — 

"  There  is  a  fountain  filled  with  blood," 
"  Hock  of  ages,  cleft  for  me," 
"  Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul,"  &c. 

SO^G   AS   A   DELIVERER. 

I  am  profoundly  sure  that  among  the  di- 
vinely ordained  instrumentalities  for  the  con- 
version and  sanctification  of  the  soul,  God 
has  not  given  a  greater,  beside  the  preaching 
of  the  gospel,  than  the  singing  of  "  psalms 
and  hymns  and  spiritual  songs."  I  have 
known  a  hymn  to  do  God's  work  in  a  soul 
when  every  other  instrumental^7  has  failed. 
I    could    not    enumerate    the    times    God    has 


12  TROPHIES   OF  SONG. 

rescued  and  saved  my  soul  from  darkness, 
discouragement,  and  weariness,  by  the  sing- 
ing of  a  hymn,  generally  by  bringing  one  to 
my  own  heart  and  causing  me  to  sing  it  to 
myself. 

A  year  or  two  after  I  entered  the  minis- 
try, I  passed  through  an  experience  that  on 
the  dark  side  of  it  culminated  in  leading  me 
to  believe  not  only  that  I  had  been  mistaken 
in  supposing  that  God  had  called  me  to  the 
work  of  the  ministry,  but  also  that  I  was 
even  mistaken  in  supposing  that  I  was  a 
Christian  at  all.  Oh!  the  blackness  and  dark- 
ness of  those  hours!  I  cannot  portray  the 
dense  gloom  that  gathered  about  my  soul, 
and  was  fairly  pressing  me  down  to  hell. 
In  this  fearful  state  of  mind,  having  almost 
yielded  up  to  despair,  I  was  returning  to  my 
home  from  a  neighboring  town  where  I  had 
been  assisting(?)  a  " ministering  brother"  in 
a  "  protracted  meeting."  I  got  aboard  the 
train,  flung  myself  into  a  seat  next  a  win- 
dow of  the  car,  and  made  another  desperate 
effort  to  recover  myself,  my  faith,  my  hope, 
my   confidence  in   God.      I  prayed  in   Spirit, 


TROPHIES   OF   SONG.  13 

I  even  called  aloud  on  God,  unmindful  of 
the  people  around  me ;  I  went  over  the 
promises,  and  searched  my  memory  through 
for  some  word  of  the  Lord  that  would  bring 
me  help.  But  God's  Word  was  a  silent  and 
sealed  book  for  me,  and  my  heart  seemed  to 
be  turning  into  stone.  In  the  midst  of  this 
wretchedness  I  was  looking  out  of  the  car 
window  up  into  the  star-lit  heavens,  and  won- 
dering if  there  was  a  God,  if  there  was  any 
Jesus,  any  Christ,  if  there  was  any  hereafter. 
While  thus  gazing  into  the  dimly  lighted 
darkness  without,  from  out  of  the  midnight 
darkness  within,  with  only  the  numb  sense 
of  my  own  wretchedness,  as  a  man  might 
feel  who  knows  he  is  freezing  to  death  with- 
out power  to  help  himself,  and,  indeed,  not 
caring  to  any  longer,  because  it  seems  easier 
to  die,  I  heard  the  low  voice  of  singing  in 
my  heart,  /  say  I  heard  the  voice  of  singing 
within  me,  and  harkening  I  caught  the  words 
of  it,  and  with  my  own  lips  in  low,  tremu- 
lous tones  began  to  sing, — 

"  Jesus,  I  my  cross  have  taken, 
All  to  leave  and  follow  Thee : 
Naked,  poor,  despised,  forsaken, 
Thou  from  hence  my  all  shall  be." 


14  TBOPHIES   OF   SONG. 

I  wondered  at  myself  and  at  the  song — I  found 
my  heart  softening  —  I  knew  that  tears  were 
in  my  eyes — I  felt  them  running  down  my 
cheeks — I  was  away  back  with  Jesus  on  the 
cross — I  heard  his  cry,  "My  God!  My  God! 
why  hast  thou  forsaken  me  ? "  and  in  that 
same  moment  the  Holy  Ghost  gave  me  fellow- 
ship with  my  Saviour,  and  I  knew  that  cry 
from  him  was  not  for  himself  alone,  but  for 
me.  I  sang  on  through  the  hymn  with  still 
melting  heart,  with  returning  faith,  hope  and 
confidence,  until  in  a  perfect  ecstacy  of  peace 
I  reached  the  lines, — 

"  Oh,  'tis  not  in  griefs  to  harm  me, 
"While  Thy  love  is  left  to  me ; 
Oh  !  'twere  not  in  joy  to  charm  me, 
Were  that  joy  unmixed  with  Thee." 

And  then,  like  a  comforted  child,  I  fairly  laid 
my  weary  heart  against  His  dear  loving  heart, 
knowing  in  my  soul  that  He  loved  me,  that 
He  died  and  rose  again  for  me,  that  He  lived 
for  me  and  that  as  never  before  ive  were  united 
to  each  other.  Thus  that  precious  hymn  was 
God's  hand  reached  out  to  save  me  when  I 
was  sinking;  thus  He  was  pleased  to  manifest 


TROPHIES   OF   SONG.  15 

Himself  to  me  in  a  sweeter,  surer,  and  stronger 
way  than  I  had  yet  known  him.  lie  had 
chosen  to  do  this  by  and  in  a  hymn,  rather 
than  by  prayer,  or  meditation,  or  promise.  As 
the  cake  baked  on  the  coals  and  the  cruse 
of  water  at  his  head  were  to  Elijah,  so  was 
that  hymn  to  me ;  at  least  it  was  the  hand 
of  the  angel  that  touched  me  and  pointed  me 
to  the  "true  bread"  and  the  " living  water" 
in  the  strength  of  which,  having  eaten  and 
drank,  I  went  many  days,  yea,  and  am  still 
even  now  walking. 

SONG    AS    A    HELP    TO    COXSECRATION. 

Years  after  when  I  was  passing  through  con- 
secration into  deeper  fellowship  with  the  Lord, 
it  pleased  him  to  use  that  same  hymn  again  ; 
this  time  not  so  much  for  immediate  comfort 
as  for  searching.  By  inward  teaching  the 
Spirit  was  making  me  to  know  something  of 
the  meaning  of  the  Master  when  he  said,  "  If 
any  man  will  come  after  me  let  him  deny 
himself,  and  take  up  Ids  cross  daily  and  follow 
me"  Whilst  I  was  learning  somewhat  pain- 
fully   this    lesson,    I    was    one    day    suddenly 


16  TROPHIES   OF  SONG. 

checked  in  the  singing  of  this,  one  of  my 
favorite  hymns,  with  the  distinct  question, 
"  can  you  truly  sing, — 

1  Jesus,  I  my  cross  have  taken, 
All  to  leave  and  follow  Thee?' " 

I  say  I  found  myself  checked  in  the  singing 
of  it  for  a  long  time ;  until,  in  my  deepest 
heart  and  purpose,  I  had  truly  denied  myself 
into  his  hands,  to  be  "  armed  with  the  same 
mind."  But  now,  "thanks  be  unto  God  who 
always  giveth  us  the-  victory,"  after  having 
been  searched  by  it,  as  I  was  never  searched 
before,  I  can  joyfully  and  honestly  sing  that 
doubly  dear  old  hymn  "  in  the  Spirit  and  with 
the  understanding  also."  The  Lord  always 
makes  it  a  great  comfort  and  power  to  my 
soul.  And  as  a- response  to  that  hymn,  now, 
always  come  those  lines  of  Charles  Wesley's 
great  psalm, — 

"Thou,  0  Christ,  art  all  I  want, 
More  than  all  in  Thee  I  find." 

I  might  magnify  the  grace  of  God  ministered 
to  me,  by  reference  to  many  more  hymns, 
but  as  the  above  may  serve  for  illustrations 
of  the  use  God  has  made  of  hymns  in  deal 


TROPHIES   OF   SONG.  17 

ing  with  my  own  soul,  I  pass  to  record,  in 
a  similar  manner,  the  power  of  song  as  I 
have  witnessed  it  in  others,  coming  under 
my  own  pastoral  care. 

SONG   AS   A   MEANS    OF   CONVERSION. 

I  said  above  that  I  have  known  a  hymn 
to  be  used  of  God  for  the  conversion  of  a 
soul  where  every  other  means  had  failed  to 
bring  light  into  the  darkened  and  troubled 
heart.  Once  I  was  detained  after  prayer- 
meeting  with  a  few  others,  to  converse  and 
pray  with  a  young  woman  who  was  under 
deep  conviction,  and  who  refused  to  go  away 
from  the  place  of  prayer  until  she  had  found 
Jesus.  It  seemed  to  be  all  in  vain  that  I 
talked  with  her,  explaining  the  atonement, 
quoting  the  simplest  and  strongest  promises 
of  the  gospel,  and  urging  her  to  an  imme- 
diate and  simple  faith;  it  was  all  in  vain 
that  I  prayed  with  and  for  her.  At  last, 
because  —  as  it  seemed  —  I  could  do  nothing 
else,  I  began  to  sing  that  little  hymn,  the 
last  verse  of  which  goes, — 

"  Oh !  bear  my  longing  heart  to  Him 
Who  bled  and  died  for  me ; 


18  TEOPHIES   OF  SOSTG. 

"Whose  blood  now  cleanses  from  all  sin, 
And  gives  me  victory." 

We  had  sung  the  whole  hymn  through,  and 
were  hushed  into  silence  by  the  Spirit.  Dur- 
ing the  singing  of  the  last  stanza,  our  friend 
had  lifted  her  weeping  face  toward  mine, 
and  was  looking  intently  and  eagerly  at  me, 
as  though  she  would  fain  drink  in  the  words 
and  power  of  the  song.  And  now  in  the 
hush  that  was  upon  us,  reaching  out  both 
her  hands  to  me,  she  said,  in  a  plaintive 
kind  of  whisper, — 

"  Please  sing  that  last  verse  again." 

And  again  we  sang,  softly  and  tenderly, — 

"Oh!  bear  my  longing  soul  to  Him 
"Who  bled  and  died  for  me ; 
"Whose  blood  now  cleanses  from  all  sin, 
And  gives  me  victory." 

As  the  words  and  melody  died  away,  the 
expression  of  her  face  changed;  the  darkness 
was  overpast,  and  the  light  and  gladness  of 
His  peace  had  come  in  the  place  of  it;  and 
with  a  cry  of  joy  she  turned  and  flung  her- 
self into  the  arms  of  her  sister,  who  was 
standing  near,  exclaiming,  "I  am  saved !  I 
am  saved ! !     Oh  !  blessed  Jesus,"  &c. 


TKOPHIES   OF   SOXG.  19 

Incidents  of  this  kind  might  be  multiplied, 
but  this  one  may  suffice  to  illustrate  the 
power  of  song  in  the  conversion  of  souls  to 
God. 

HYMNS    IX    PUBLIC    WORSHIP. 

It  would  be  easy  to  fill  many  pages  with 
interesting  facts  in  connection  with  the  use 
of  hymns  in  the  public  worship  of  the  house 
of  God.  I  have  seen  vast  audiences  melted 
and  swayed  by  a  simple  hymn  when  they 
have  been  unmoved  by  a  powerful  presenta- 
tion of  the  gospel  from  the  pulpit.  From 
close  and  repeated  observation,  I  am  per- 
suaded that  Mr.  Spurgeon,  the  great  met- 
ropolitan preacher  of  England,  places  great 
reliance  on  the  use  of  his  hymns  in  public 
worship.  By  them  he  prepares  his  vast  au- 
diences for  the  service  that  is  to  follow  ;  and 
fastens  his  discourse  with  a  hymn,  which  he 
always  reads  with  great  power,  and  which  is 
sung  by  that  vast  choir  of  7500  people  with 
an  effect  that  is  indescribable.  Indeed,  the 
use  of  hymns  in  the  service  of  the  sanctuary, 
when  in  the  hands  of  a  pastor  or  leader  who 
understands  and  feels  the  inspiration  of  them, 


20  TROPHIES  OF  SONG. 

cannot  be  too  highly  estimated*  It  is  a 
great  pity  that  the  power  of  "  psalms  and 
hymns  and  spiritual  songs"  has  been  so  sadly 
weakened,  if  not  utterly  destroyed  by  the 
introduction  of  "  fancy  quartettes,"  who  sing 
neither  with  the  "spirit  nor  with  the  under- 
standing," and  who  practically  forbid  any  one 
else  to  sing.  Lord,  hasten  the  day  when  the 
service  of  song  shall  be  restored  to  the  people. 

IN  THE  PRAYER -MEETING 

Hymns  are  simply  indispensable.  A  pastor 
skilled  in  the  use  of  them  holcTs  the  prayer- 
meeting  almost  absolutely  in  his  power.  An 
unfortunate  or  ill-timed  address  or  exhortation 
may  be  covered  by  a  hymn,  and  the  people's 
hearts  and  minds  brought  back  to  God.  A 
pungent  address,  a  ringing  testimony,  or  a  pre- 
valing  prayer  may  be  strongly  supplemented  and 
reinforced  by  a  well  chosen  hymn  promptly 
and  sweetly  sung,  which,  without  giving  out 
page  or  number,  shall  have  sprung  spontane- 
ously from  the  lips  of  the  pastor  or  any  brother 
or  sister  in  the  congregation  who  has  spiritual 
discernment.     For  myself  I  should  feel  utterly 


TROPHIES   OF  SONG.  21 

lost,  and  without.  "  sword  "  or  "  trowel  "  for  the 
building  and  defence  of  the  walls  of  Zion,  if  I 
were  without  the  "  armory  "  and  "  kit  "  of  hymns 
which  God  has  given  the  church  "  to  profit 
withal." 

THE     POWER    OF     SOXG    IN    THE    REVIVAL    WORK 
OF    MOODY    AXD    SAXKEY. 

I  shall  close  this  letter  by  giving  a  brief 
account  of  the  triumph  of  song  as  seen  in 
connection  with  the  great  revival  of  the  last 
few  years  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic.  All 
know  the  story  of  the  "two  "  simple-hearted  and 
M  unlearned  "  men  —  Moody  and  Sankey  —  who 
went  only  a  few  years  ago,  "  led  of  the  spirit," 
to  the  British  Isles,  to  preach  and  sing  the  gos- 
pel "  there  also."  Moody  with  his  open  Bible, 
Sankey  with  his  budget  of  stirring  hymns,  and 
his  sweet  God-given  and  sanctified  voice.  It 
is  exceedingly  doubtful  from  all  the  testimony 
I  could  gather  which  had  the  most  to  do 
in  the  awakening  and  stirring  which  Scot- 
land  and  Ireland  have  received  at  their  hands. 
Whether  most  is  to  be  ascribed  to  Moody's 
preaching,   or   Sankey's  singing —  one  with  bhn- 


22  TROPHIES  OF   SOtfG. 

pie  words  of  truth,  the  other  with  sweetest 
song  —  represent  a  two-edged  instrument  which 
the  Holy  Spirit  has  been  pleased  to  use  in  the 
accomplishment  of  this  mighty  work.  But 
certain  it  is  that  whoever  visits  Scotland  for 
years  to  come  will  know  that  Sankey  has  been 
there,  for  he  has  sung  a  hundred  sweet 
songs  into  the  hearts  and  spiritual  lives  of 
more  than  twenty  thousand  converts  to  Jesus, 
and  has  filled  the  whole  land,  Highlands  and 
Lowlands,  with  their  sacred  echoes. 

Eminent  Scotch  clergymen  told  me,  while 
in  conversation  with  them  on  this  subject,  that 
it  was  Sankey's  singing  that  melted  the  hearts 
of  the  people  and  made  an  open  door  for 
Moody  with  his  Bible  lessons,  for  such  they 
were  rather  than  sermons.  Of  course  this  is 
not  mentioned  to  disparage  the  preaching  of 
the  gospel  —  God  forbid  —  but  only  to  show 
the  relation  of  song  to  the  spoken  word.  This 
service  of  song  in  Scotland  was  not  a  passing 
gift  —  it  is  a  permanent  legacy.  None  may 
reproduce  Moody's  matchless  Bible  expositions, 
but  all  Scotland  for  years  to  come  will  sing 
Sankey's  songs. 


TROPHIES   OF   SONG.  23 

It  vvas  in  the  Barkley  church  in  Edinburgh 
where  these  apostles  of  the  Word  and  song  be- 
gan their  work,  having  been  invited  thither 
by  tha  noble  pastor,  Rev.  James  Wilson,  who 
was  an  advanced  advocate  of  "  hymns  and 
spiritual  songs"  as  well  as  "psalms"  I  was 
in  that  church,  the  guest  of  the  pastor,  during 
a  crowded  Thursday  evening  prayer-meeting. 
In  deference  to  the  time-honored  custom  of 
the  Scotch,  Mr.  Wilson  gave  out  a  paraphrase 
of  one  of  David's  psalms.  The  congregation 
did  bravely  and  well,  considering  the  meter 
and  the  melody  (?).  But  after  the  meeting 
was  formally  opened,  the  book  of  Paraphrases 
was  quietly  tucked  under  the  pulpit  and  one 
of  our  little  American  hymns  announced :  — 

'  I  hear  thy  gentle  voice, 

That  caDs  me,  Lord,  to  thee ; 
For  cleansing  in  the  precious  hlood 
That  flowed  on  Calvar}'." 

In  a  twinkling  every  one  present  whipped  out 
of  pocket  a  little  penny  copy  of  "  Sankey's 
Hymns ; "  every  face  was  radiant,  and  every 
voice  was  vocal.  The  house  seemed  filled 
with  the  Spirit,  and  every  heart  seemed  to  be 


24  TROPHIES   OF  SONG. 

pouring  out  its  faith,  and  hope  to  God  in  the 
hymn  that  had  in  all  probability  led  many 
of  those  present  to  Christ,  and  had  quick- 
ened the  faith  and  hope  of  all.  I  hppe  the 
Paraphrases  will  not  be  given  up,  and  I  am 
sure  they  will  not ;  but  they  will  be  improved, 
some  of  them,  and  sung  all  the  better  for  the 
baptism  that  they  are  being  baptized  with  — 
how  are  they  straitened  until  it  be  accom- 
plished. I  witnessed  the  same  effect  in  Dr. 
Wallace's  great  congregation  in  Glasgow,  the 
same  in  Dr.  Bonar's  church,  the  same  in  the 
great  noonday  meetings  in  Assembly  Hall,  and 
in  other  places  that  I  visited.  Indeed,  Scot- 
land is  ringing  with  songs  and  gladness  to-day. 
Riding  once  from  Ayr  to  Glasgow  on  a  third- 
class  train  crowded  with  the  "  common  peo- 
ple," who  had  been  off  on  some  excursion, 
my  ears  were  filled  all  the  way  with  the  mel- 
ody of  those  revival  hymns,  which  rose  ever 
and  anon  above  the  noise  of  the  rushing  train, 
and  rang  out  clear  and  beautiful  when  we 
stopped  for  a  few  moments  at  the  stations  along 
the  line.  It  seemed  as  though  we  were  on 
board  the  very  car  of  salvation,  being  speeded 


TKOPHIES   OF   SONG.  25 

along  by  bands  of  singing  angels  come  to  con- 
voy us. 

Again,  one  Sunday  evening  I  left  my 
hotel  in  Glasgow  to  go  to  Dr.  Andrew 
Bonar's  church,  some  two  miles  distant.  On 
my  way  I  was  treated  to  a  novel  spectacle, 
and  one  which  was  repeated  every  few  hun- 
dred yards  until  I  reached  the  church.  I 
will  describe  it :  I  had  gone  but  a  little 
way  from  the  hotel  when  my  ears  were 
greeted  with  the  familiar  strains  :  — 

"Safe  in  the  arms  of  Jesus, 
Safe  on  His  gentle  breast, 
There  by  His  love  o'ershaded, 
Sweetly  my  soul  shall  rest." 

Looking  ahead  of  me  I  saw  a  crowd,  from 
whence  came  the  singing.  Pressing  up  I 
joined  the  multitude  of  men,  women  and 
children  gathered  about  a  little  band  of 
brothers  and  sisters  in  the  Lord,  who  were 
holding  a  service  of  song  on  the  street  cor- 
ner. This  little  company  could  not  preachy 
in  the  technical  sense  of  that  word,  but  they 
could  sing  the  glad  gospel  out  on  the  even- 
ing   air,    and    thus    say    to    all,    "cornel"      I 


26  TROPHIES   OF   SONG. 

was  very  deeply  impressed  with  their  simple 
service,  for  they  were  evidently  engaging  in 
it  as  a  matter  that  was  to  be  done  unto 
the  Lord.  As  they  passed  from  the  singing 
of  one  hymn  to  another,  sometimes  slipping 
in  a  brief  prayer  between,  I  noted  the  effect 
upon  the  crowd.  Though  made  up  mostly 
of  the  street  rabble,  such  as  is  seen  only  in 
the  large  cities  of  Great  Britain,  it  was 
hushed  into  quiet,  and  even  eager  attention 
to  the  singing.  My  attention  was  called  to 
some  faces  grown  serious  and  thoughtful  as 
they  hearkened  to  words  of  love  and  hope, 
and  more  than  once  I  saw  the  tears  stealing 
down  the  grim  cheek  of  some  sinner  unused 
to  weep.  Thus  was  God  at  work  in  those 
neglected  hearts,  and  doubtless  His  dear  love 
crept  into  many  a  soul  through  those  songs. 
As  I  have  already  said,  these  singing  bands 
with  their  attendant  crowds  were  stationed 
all  the  way  down  the  long  street  to  the 
church,  at  intervals  of  a  few  hundred  yards, 
and  doubtless  other  of  the  principal  streets 
of  the  city  were  similarly  occupied.  In  no 
other   way,    it  seems  to  me,   could  the  gospel 


TROPHIES   OF   SONG.  27 

have  been  so  effectually  preached  to  that 
class  of  people. 

At  Dr.  Bonar's  church,  which  I  reached  at 
last,  I  found  the  same  programme,  only  a 
little  extended.  There  was  no  preacher  —  it 
was  vacation  time — but  a  few  earnest  brethren 
were  occupying  the  platform,  who  in  turn 
would  speak  a  few  words,  perhaps  relate  some 
incident  connected  with  the  great  revival,  or 
rehearse  the  story  of  some  remarkable  con- 
version, and  then  a  hymn  would  be  announced 
— for  instance  :  — 

"I  hear  the  Saviour  say, 

Thy  strength  indeed  is  small," 

and  then  the  whole  congregation  worshiping 
God  would  fill  the  church  with  the  sound 
of  their  song. 

These  incidents,  as  those  of  the  other  classes 
given  above,  might  be  multiplied,  but  perhaps 
enough  has  been  said. 

In  concluding  this  letter,  will  it  be  out  of 
place  to  express  the  hope  and  venture  the 
prediction  that  this  revival  of  sacred  song  is 
the    forerunner    or    first    fruits    of    a    general 


28  TROPHIES   OF   SONG. 

revival  of  religion  in  the  church  of  God?  I 
believe  it,  and  hail  it  as  one  who,  watching 
for  the  morning,  hails  the  gray  dawn  and  roseate 
light  in  the  East.  "  Even  so,  come  Lord  Jesus, 
come  quickly." 


INCIDENTS    ASSOCIATED 


WITH  OUR 


POPULAR  HYMNS. 


When  Haycln  was  asked  why  his  music  was 
so  cheerful,  he  replied,  "  I  can't  make  any 
other.  I  write  as  I  feel.  When  I  think  on 
God  my  heart  is  so  full  of  joy  that  the  notes 
dance  and  leap  from  my  pen." 


29 


"  We'll  crowd  thy  gates  with  thankful  songs, 
High  as  the  heavens  our  voices  raise." 


"Lord,  teach  our  songs  to  rise; 
Thy  love  can  animate  the  strain, 
And  bid  it  reach  the  skies." 

"  Learning  here,  by  faith  and  love, 
Songs  of  praise  to  sing  above" 


"The  great  salvation  loud  proclaim^ 
And  shout  lot  joy  the  Saviour's  name." 


"  With  calmly  reverential  joy, 
Oh,  let  us  all  our  lives  employ 

In  setting  forth  thy  love ; 
And  raise  in  death  our  triumph  higher, 
And  sing  with  all  the  heavenly  choir, 

The  endless  song  above." 


St.  Augustine  thus  describes  the  effect  which  the  music  had  upon 
him  as  he  entered  the  church  at  Milan  the  first  time  after  he  was 
converted  to  Christianity:  "  The  voices  floated  in  at  my  ears,  the 
truth  was  distilled  at  my  heart,  and  the  affection  of  piety  over- 
flowed in  the  sweet  tears  of  joy." 


TROPHIES   OF   SONG.  31 


HYMN  INCIDENTS. 

"I  AM  SO  GLAD  THAT  OUR  FATHER  IN  HEAVEN 
TELLS    OF    HIS    LOVE    IN    THE    BOOK  HE    HAS    GIVEN." 

This  popular  song,  which  was  the  rallying  cry 
of  the  great  revival  in  Scotland  and  also  of  many 
in  America,  was  suggested  to  Mr.  Bliss  by  hear- 
ing very  frequently  the  chorus, — 

"  O  how  I  love  Jesus!" 

He  said  to  himself,  "  I  have  sung  long  enough  of 
my  'poor  love  for  Christ,  and  now  I  will  sing  of 
His  love  for  me"  He  sat  down  and  wrote  the 
delightful  and  inspiring  song  of  which  the  first 
verse  is, — 

"  I  am  so  glad  that  our  Father  in  heaven 
Tells  of  his  love  in  the  Book  he  has  given ; 

Wonderful  things  in  the  Bible  I  see, 
This  is  the  dearest  that  Jesus  loves  me." 


One  Sunday  a  man  came  into  our  Sunday- 
school  at  the  Boston  North  End  Mission, 
drawn  by  the  sweetness  of  the  children's  sing- 
ing.    He  remained   until   the   close,  and  came 


32  TEOPHIES  OF  SONG. 

again  that  evening  to  our  prayer-meeting. 
When  the  customary  invitation  to  seek  the 
Saviour  was  given,  he  came  forward  and  found 
"peace  in  believing."  To  a  few  of  us  who 
had  remained  to  pray  with  the  penitent  seek- 
ers he  said,  "My  friends,  I  feel  that  I'm  a 
saved  man,  and  I  owe  it  to  your  children's  sing- 
ing '  Jesus  loves  mef  this  afternoon.  I  couldn't 
realize  it,  I've  been  such  a  miserable  sinner; 
but  after  I  went  away  I  thought  it  over,  4  Je- 
sus loves  me;'  and  then  I  thought  of  the 
next  line,  'For  the  Bible  tells  me  so,'  and  I 
tried  to  believe  it,  and  I  came  here  this  evening 
to  get  you  to  pray  for  me."  He  became  a 
regular  attendant  at  the  Mission,  and  while 
with  us  gave  the  clearest  evidence  of  a  gen- 
uine change  of  heart. 

This  is  but  one  of  very  many  similar  in- 
stances of  almost  weekly  occurrence  at  this 
Mission.  This  same  man  soon  after  felt  called 
by  the  Holy  Spirit  to  prepare  himself  for  the 
Christian  ministry,  and  at  present  he  is  reg- 
ularly occupying  a  pulpit  in  Massachusetts, 
spending  much  of  his  time  during  the  week 
in  lecturing   upon   the   evils   of  intemperance. 

K  Tourjee. 


TROPHIES   OF   SONG.  33 

At  one  of  the  revival  meetings  at  Edinburgh 

a  gay,  giddy  girl  attended.  She  went  late  and 
was  unable  to  get  a  seat,  so  she  wandered  about 
in  the  hall  outside.  Inside  the  church  they 
were  singing,  led  by  Mr.  Sankey :  — 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad 
That  Jesus  loves  me, 
Jesus  loves  me, 
Jesus  loves  me." 

The  words  went  to  her  heart  and  her  conscience, 
and  she  said,  "I  cannot  sing  that."  When  that 
meeting  broke  up  she  went  to  the  meeting  for 
anxious  inquiries,  and  is  now  a  rejoicing  Chris- 
tian. 


A  Missionary  of  the  American  Sunday- 
School  Union  in  Missouri,  after  he  had  organized 
a  Sunday-school   recently,    sang    to    them    Mr. 

Bliss'  delightful  song, — 

11 1  am  so  glad  that  Jesus  loves  me," 

and  followed  it  with  the  question,  "  Are  you 
glad  ?  If  not,  why  ?  "  He  had  hardly  finished 
when  a  young  man  rose,  and  rushing  up  to  him, 
threw  his  arms  around  his  neck,  sobbing,  "  Oh, 


34  TROPHIES  OF  SONG. 

sir,  you  must  not  leave  here  till  I'm  a  Christian !  " 
Prayer  was  offered  for  him,  and  he  was  saved. 
Then  he  exclaimed,  "  Oh,  that  song !  I  could 
not  get  away  from  it  and  it  has  saved  me." 


A  young  woman  in  England  went  to  a  meet- 
ing where  she  heard  Mr.  Sankey  singing  this 
same  hymn, — 

"I  am  so  glad  that  Jesus  loves  me," 

and  while  the  hymn  was  being  sung,  began  to 
feel  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  that  she  was  a 
sinner.  All  her  sins  came  up  in  array  before 
her ;  and  so  numerous  and  aggravated  did  her 
sins  appear,  that  she  imagined  she  never  could 
be  saved.  She  said  in  her  heart,  "  Jesus  cannot 
love  me.  He  could  not  love  such  a  sinner  as  I." 
She  went  home  in  a  state  of  extreme  mental 
anguish,  and  did  not  sleep  that  night.  Every 
opportunity  of  obtaining  more  light  was  eagerly 
seized.  She  took  her  place  in  the  "Enquiry 
Room."  There  she  found  to  her  astonishment 
and  joy  that  Jesus  could,  did,  does  love  sinners. 
She  saw  in  God's  opened  Word   that  it  was  for 


TROPHIES   OF   SONG.  35 

sinners  Jesus  died,  and  for  none  others.      When 
she  realized  this  she  too  began  to  sing : 

"  I  am  so  glad  that  Jesus  loves  me, 
Jesus  loves  me,  Jesus  loves  me,  even  me." 


In  a  praise  meeting,  daring  the  recent  revival 
services  in  Chicago,  Mr.  Sankey  spoke  as  follows 
in  regard  to  the  power  of  this  and  other  hymns : 

"  What  I  have  to  thank  God  especially  for  is 
the  wonderful  way  He  has  used  the  power  of 
song.  I  remember  about  five  years  ago  coming 
to  yonder  depot  one  morning  early.  It  was  my 
first  visit  to  this  great  city,  and  I  knew  none 
here  save  one  man.  I  went  along  Madison 
Street,  up  State  Street,  to  the  North  Side,  and 
met  my  dear  brother  Moody.  I  had  met  him 
one  year  before  in  a  distant  State,  wrhile  he  was 
engaged  in  the  work  of  the  Master.  As  I  went 
along  those  streets  I  recollect  how  I  wondered  if 
God  had  a  work  here  for  me  in  my  coming  to 
this  city,  or  whether  I  had  come  on  my  own  vo- 
lition, and  how  while  thinking  in  this  way  I  sent 
up  a  prayer  to  God  to  bless  me  in  the  service  in 
which  I  was  about  to  engage.     With  thankful- 


36  TROPHIES   OF   SONG. 

ness  I  remember  the  very  first  day  I  spent  in 
this  city.  Somewhere  down  here  we  came 
among  the  sick  and  lowly,  and  went  from  one 
house  to  another  singing  and  praying  with  the 
people  ;   and  what  a  blessing  we  received  ! 

"God  led  us  into  other  fields.  I  remember 
when  the  Tabernacle  was  rebuilt  how  I  used  to 
enjoy  gathering  the  little  people  in,  and  teach- 
ing them  those  sweet  songs  that  are  already  en- 
circling the  globe.  Yes,  encircling  the  globe, 
for  but  a  few  days  ago  I  received  a  copy  of  these 
Gospel  hymns  printed  in  the  Chinese  language. 
They  are  sung  in  Africa  and  Asia,  and  are  heard 
in  France  and  German}7,  England  and  America. 
I  remember  what  peace  and  pleasure  I  had  as  I 
first  taught  these  little  hymns  on  the  North  Side. 
One  day  a  lady  called  on  me  when  I  first  had 
those  classes,  and  said,  '  There  is  a  little  singing 
girl  belonging  to  one  of  your  classes  who  is  dy- 
ing. She  wants  you  to  go  and  see  her.'  I  went 
to  her  home — a  little  frame  cottage,  —  and 
there  I  found  a  little  maid  dying  —  one  whom  I 
had  known  so  well  in  the  Thursday  evening 
meetings.  I  said,  *  My  dear  child,  how  is  it  with 
you?'      'Will    you  pray   for    my   father  and 


TROPHIES   OF   SONG.  37 

mother  as  you  pray  for  us?"  was  the  reply. 
1  But  how  is  it  with  yourself?'  I  again  asked. 
8  Oh,  sir,'  she  answered,  '  they  tell  me  I  am  about 
to  die,  but  I  have  found  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.' 
4  When  did  you  become  a  Christian  ?  '  I  inquired. 
4  Don't  you  remember  one  Thursday  when  you 
were  teaching  me  to  sing  — 

"  ■  "I  am  so  glad  that  Jesus  loves  me, 
Jesus  loves  me,  Jesus  loves  me;" 

and  don't  you  remember  how  you  told  us  that  if 
we  only  gave  our  hearts  to  Him,  He  would  love 
us?  —  and  I  gave  it  to  Him.' 

"  What  that  little  dying  girl  said  to  me  helped 
to  cheer  me  on  more  than  anything  I  had  heard 
before,  because  she  was  my  first  convert.  Thank 
God,  there  have  been  many  since." 


"  SOWING    THE    SEED   BY   THE    DAYLIGHT    FAIR/ 

In  one  of  the  temperance  meetings  connected 
with  Mr.  Moody's  revival  labors  in  Chicago,  a 
very  intelligent  reformed  drunkard  attributed 
his  reform  to  the  influence  of  this  hymn. 

He  confessed  that  it  was  difficult  to  speak 
about  past  experiences,  especially  when  a  man 


38  TEOPHIES   OF  SONG. 

had  been  a  heavy  drinker,  as  he  had  been  for 
sixteen  years.  He  began  sixteen  years  before 
by  taking  his  first  bottle  of  ale  in  the  back  room 
of  a  country  store,  and  then,  entering  the  army, 
he  had  plunged  into  dissipation,  from  which  he 
thought  at  first  he  could  free  himself ;  but,  as 
the  years  went  by,  he  found  the  habit  had  be- 
come so  strong  that  he  couldn't  control  it,  for  it 
controlled  him.  He  had  stood  at  the  mouth  of 
the  cannon,  in  front  of  the  fixed  bayonet,  with 
the  muzzle  of  a  pistol  right  before  him,  and  yet 
never  had  felt  there  such  heart-sinking  as  he  ex- 
perienced when  he  began  to  realize  what  a  man 
was,  fettered  by  this  vice.  He  came  to  this  city 
some  little  time  ago,  and  spent  most  of  his  days 
and  nights  in  drinking  and  in  playing  cards, 
sometimes  drinking  thirty  or  forty  drinks  a  day. 
While  in  this  condition  one  night  he  came  to  the 
Tabernacle  out  of  curiosity,  to  hear  what  was 
being  said,  and  to  see  what  was  being  done.  He 
sat  in  the  gallery,  and  was  shielded  by  one  of  the 
long  wooden  pillars  that  upheld  the  roof.  He 
saw  the  crowds  enter  with  happy  faces,  and  ap- 
parently light  hearts,  and  nice  clothes,  and  it 
hardened  his  heart,  for  he  felt  that  he  could 


TROPHIES   OF   SONG.  89 

never  be  like  them.  Then  he  heard  Mr.  Sankey 
sing  the  hymn  "  What  Shall  the  Harvest  Be  ?  " 
It  struck  him  when  he  heard  the  first  verse : 

11  Sowing  the  seed  by  the  daylight  fair, 
Sowing  the  seed  by  the  noonday  glare, 
Sowing  the  seed  by  the  fading  light, 
Sowing  the  seed  in  the  solemn  night. 

Oh,  what  shall  the  harvest  be  ? 

Oh,  what  shall  the  harvest  be  ?" 

And  then,  said  he,  Mr.  Sankey  sang  the  third 
verse,  a  verse  that  entered  my  heart.  It  roused 
me  from  my  stupor.  It  brought  me  to  feel  what 
my  own  condition  was,  and  these  words  entered 
my  soul : 

"  Sowing  the  seed  of  a  lingering  pain, 
Sowing  the  seed  of  a  maddened  brain, 
Sowing  the  seed  of  a  tarnished  name, 
Sowing  the  seed  of  eternal  shame. 

Oh,  what  shall  the  harvest  be  ? 

Oh,  what  shall  my  harvest  be  ?  " 

During  the  recital  of  these  lines,  the  speaker's 
voice  trembled,  his  whole  frame  was  agitated, 
his  words  and  manner  were  impressed  on  his  au- 
ditors, many  of  whom  were  moved  to  tears,  and 
sobbing  was  audible  in  many  parts  of  the  great 
hall.     He  then  went  on  to  say  that  that  night  he 


40  TROPHIES  OF  SOHG. 

had  listened  to  this  hymn,  describing  his  own 
experience,  he  found  no  rest ;  the  words  seemed 
to  meet  him  wherever  he  went, — 

"  What  shall  the  harvest  be  ?  " 

They  were  written  on  the  walls  of  the  room  in 
the  hotel  where  he  boarded.  They  haunted  him 
wherever  he  went.  He  tried  to  drown  the  voice 
by  drinking  heavier,  but  lie  couldn't  remove 
them.     There  they  were  wherever  he  turned, — 

"  What  shall  the  harvest  be  ?" 

He  left  the  Tabernacle  saying  to  himself  he 
would  never  return ;  but  finally,  such  was  his 
unrest,  he  went  into  the  inquiry-room,  and 
talked  with  Mr.  Far  well  and  Mr.  Brewster,  and 
after  a  great  struggle  he  gave  himself  to  Christ. 
He  trusted  in  the  salvation  wrought  out  for  him, 
and,  though  he  had  lost  position,  home,  family 
bjr  the  accursed  cup,  he  rejoiced  that  God  had 
looked  down  on  him  and  saved  him. 


"WHAT   MEANS    THIS    EAGER,   ANXIOUS    TnRONG?" 

— Rev,  H,  JP.  Hammond. 
Perhaps  no  hymn  has  been  oftener  sung  dur- 
ing the  last  ten  years  in  evangelistic  meetings 


TROPHIES   OF   SONG.  41 

than  the  one  with  the  above  heading.  It  will 
be  interesting  to  many  to  learn  the  circumstan- 
ces which  suggested  it.  It  was  originally  writ- 
ten as  a  description  of  the  powerful  revival  of 
religion  in  Newark,  N.  J.,  in  18ti4,  when  hun- 
dreds were  led  by  the  Holy  Spirit  to  find  peace 
and  joy  in  believing  in  Jesus. 

It  was  on  a  Saturday  afternoon,  when  one  of 
the  largest  churches  was  crowded  with  children 
and  adults,  that  R.  G.  Pardee,  that  dear  man 
who  has  done  so  much  for  Sunday-schools  in 
America,  made  some  very  impressive  remarks  on 
the  answer  given  to  blind  Bartimeus  in  Luke 
xviii.  37 :  "  They  told  him  that  Jesus  of  Naza- 
reth passeth  by." 

Miss  Campbell  was  present,  and  shortly  after 
wrote  those  words  which  have  been  sung  by 
thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  the  world  over. 
It  struck  me  that  they  might  be  set  to  music, 
and  I  found  they  went  very  well  to  the  tune, 
"  Sweet  Hour  of  Prayer."  There  were  origi- 
nally nine  verses,  if  I  remember  rightly,  but  I 
only  printed  seven  in  the  New  Praises  of  Jesus. 
It  has  always  been  popular  in  evangelistic  meet- 
ings, and  multitudes  by  it  have  been  awakened, 


42  TROPHIES  OF  SONG. 

and  led  to  cry  out,  as  did  the  blind  man,  "  Jesus, 
thou  son  of  David,  have  mercy  on  me." 

I  remember  that  a  gambler  came  into  a  morn- 
ing meeting,  which  crowded  a  Congregational 
church  in  Lockport,  N.  Y.,  while  we  were  sing- 
ing that  hymn,  and  at  the  close  of  it,  though  it 
was  the  first  meeting  he  had  attended,  he  arose, 
and  with  tears  streaming  down  his  cheeks, 
begged  the  Christians  to  pray  for  him.  Earnest 
prayer  at  once  ascended  in  his  behalf,  and  it  was 
answered.  A  few  nights  after,  in  relating  his 
experience  before  a  great  audience  in  Dr.  Wis- 
ner's  church,  he  referred  to  this  hymn  as  having 
been  the  means  of  awakening  him,  and  added: 

"  As  I  went  out  of  the  church  that  day,  and 
over  the  canal,  I  threw  the  4  Devil's  Testament,' 
with  its  fifty-two  leaves  into  it." 

I  am  sure  he  never  played  a  card  afterwards 
He  lived  a  consistent  Christian  life,  and  has  since 
died  a  happy  death.  I  might  fill  pages  relating 
similar  instances  to  illustrate  the  good  this  hymn 
has  accomplished.  Night  after  night  during  the 
past  winter,  not  only  in  Great  Britain,  under  the 
leadership  of  Brother  Sankey,  but  also  in  Cali- 
fornia and  Oregon,  it  has  been  sung  by  thou- 


TKOPHIES   OF   SONG.  43 

sands  who  will  remember  it  to  all  eternity.  The 
verses  together  are  a  sermon  in  themselves. 

Prof.  Theo.  E.  Perkins  has  written  some  very 
appropriate  music  for  this  hymn,  which  is  a  fa- 
vorite with  Mr.  Sankey,  and  is  often  heard  at 
Brother  Moody's  revival  meetings. 

It  is  my  earnest  prayer  that  multitudes  more 
may  be  led  by  this  li3rmn  so  earnestly  to  call 
upon  the  Saviour,  that  they,  too,  may  receive 
their  sight,  and  hear  Him  saying :  "  Thy  faith 
hath  saved  thee." 


"  I  HEAR  THE  SAVIOUR  SAY,"   AND  "  THERE  IS  A 
GATE  THAT  STANDS  AJAR." 

Maggie  Lindsay,  a  girl  of  seventeen,  who 
had  been  for  some  time  a  pupil-teacher  in  the 
Free  Church  Normal  Seminary,  Edinburgh, 
found  the  Saviour  in  the  Free  Assembly  Hall,  on 
the  last  night  of  1873.  On  the  27th  of  January 
following  she  was  journeying  by  train  to  Aber- 
deen, when  a  terrible  accident  took  place  at 
Manuel,  near  Linlithgow.  She  was  amongst 
those  who  were  most  seriously  injured,  both  legs 
being  broken,  and  a  rib,  with  other  wounds  of  a 


44  TROPHIES   OF   SONG. 

painful  character.  Her  sufferings  were  acute, 
but  she  bore  up  under  them  with  "gentle  Chris- 
tian heroism,"  as  an  eye-witness  testifies ;  such 
as  drew  forth  the  admiration  of  all  around. 
When  the  terrible  crash  on  the  railroad  hap- 
pened, she  had  been  reading  Mr.  Sankey's  hymn- 
book,  and  there  was  the  mark  of  a  turned-down 
leaf  at  her  favorite  hymn,  "  The  Gates  Ajar," 
with  its  touching  refrain, — 

"  Oh,  depths  of  mercy  !  can  it  be 
That  gate  was  left  ajar  for  me  ?" 

During  her  last  hours  it  was  affecting  to  hear 
her,  amidst  so  great  suffering,  sing  softly  to  her- 
self,— 

"Forme,  forme?'* 

Another  hymn-book,  "Phillips'  Hallowed  Songs," 
was  recovered  from  the  debris,  "  its  pages  stained 
with  her  own  blood."  "  At  one  time,"  writes 
the  minister  who  attended  her  during  the  last 
moments  of  life,  "  when  we  -thought  she  had 
fallen  into  a  sleep,  eagerly  wished  and  prayed 
for  by  us,  we  moved  away  out  of  sight.  But  in 
a  few  minutes  we  heard  her,  in  low,  gentle 
tones,  singing  to  herself  the  words, — 


TROPHIES   OF   SONG.  45 

*  Nothing,  either  great  or  small, 

Remains  for  me  to  do ; 
Jesus  died,  and  paid  it  all, 

All  the  debt  I  owe.' 

Shortly   afterwards    she    fell    asleep   in   Jesus. 
1  Blessed  are  the  dead  that  die  in  the  Lord.' " 


"YET  THERE  IS  ROOM  !   THE  LAMB'S  BRIGHT  HALL 
OF  SONG." 

A  GAY,  thoughtless  young  woman,  in  Scotland, 
was  one  day  invited  by  an  acquaintance  to  accom- 
pany her  to  a  Moody  and  Sankey  meeting.  She 
declined  to  go,  saying  she  did  not  care  to  hear 
Moody  and  Sankey.  On  being  further  pressed, 
she  consented  and  went.  She  was  not  impressed 
by  anything  she  heard  in  the  course  of  the  meet- 
ing. Indeed,  she  thought  there  was  "  nothing 
in  it,"  and  wondered  why  people  should  make 
so  much  ado  about  what  seemed  so  common- 
place. The  last  hymn,  u  Yet  there  is  Room  " 
was  being  sung  by  Mr.  Sankey  alone.  He  had 
reached  the  last  stanza  — 

"  Ere  night  that  gate  inay  close,  and  seal  thy  doom, 
Then  the  last,  low,  long  cry,  '  Xo  room,  no  room  ! ' 
Is o  room,  no  room;  oh,  woful  cry,  '  No  room  ! '  " 


46  TROPHIES   OF  SONG. 

These  last  words  of  Dr.  Bonar's  hymn  fell  upon 
the  ear  of  the  young  woman  like  a  sudden  thun- 
der-clap. She  left  the  meeting,  but  the  words 
went  with  her.  "  No  room,  no  room ! "  still 
rang  in  her  ears.  Conscience  awoke  at  the 
sound  of  this  warning  bell.  Nor  could  she  rest, 
until,  as  she  trusts,  she  found  rest  in  the  great 
Redeemer. 


"  COME    HOME  !      COME     HOME  !  " 

Ik  Victoria  Hall,  Sunderland,  England,  Mr. 
Moody  one  evening  closed  his  sermon  with  the 
story  of  a  prodigal  son,  who  was  reconciled  to 
his  father  —  as  he  stood  by  the  bed  of  his  dying 
mother.     Then  Mr.  Sankey  sang, — 

"  Oh,  prodigal  child,  come  home.,, 

When  the  audience  had  been  dismissed,  there 
came  into  the  enquiry  meeting  a  young  man 
who  had  long  played  the  part  of  the  prodigal 
son,  to  the  great  grief  of  his  godly  parents. 
With  a  face  marked  with  deepest  penitence  he 
came  up  to  his  father  and  mother,  and  throwing 
his  arms  about  them,  with  many  tears  asked 
their  forgiveness  and  also  the  pardon  of  God  for 


TROPHIES   OF   SO^G.  47 

his  sins.     The  prodigal  child  had  a  double  wel- 
come from  God  and  man. 

"  Come  home  !  come  home  ! 
You  are  weary  at  heart, 
For  the  way  has  been  dark, 
And  so  lonely  and  wild, 

O  prodigal  child  ! 
Come  home,  oh  come  home  ! 


"  HOLD     THE     FORT." 

.  When  General  Sherman  was  marching  "from 
Atlanta  to  the  Sea,"  he  left  a  detachment  of 
troops  at  a  certain  fort  in  his  rear.  By  some 
means  the  enemy  got  behind  him,  attacked  the 
fort  and  drove  its  defenders  from  the  outer  to 
the  inner  intrenchments.  The  commanding: 
officer  was  about  to  run  up  the  white  flag,  when 
he  saw  on  a  distant  hill  the  signal,  "Hold  the 
fort:  I  am  coming.  Sherman"  This  incident 
gave  to  Mr.  Bliss  the  idea  of  his  well  known 
hymn,  "  Hold  the  fort." 


While  Mr.  Moody  was  in  Dublin,  the  Royal 
Circus  was  much  less  attended  than  usual,  and 


48  TEOPHIES   OF   SONG. 

so,  a  month  or  two  afterward,  the  clowns  made 
a  plan  to  ridicule  the  evangelists.  At  one  of 
their  entertainments,  in  the  presence  of  a  large 
concourse,  one  clown  said  to  the  other,  "  I'm 
rather  Moody  to-night ;  how  do  you  feel  ? " 
The  other  replied,  "  I  feel  rather  Sankey-monius, 
myself."  The  fun  did  not  work,  at  least,  not 
as  the  clowns  expected.  The  audience  hissed 
them  out  of  the  ring  and  struck  up, — 

"  Hold  the  fort,  for  I  am  coming/ ' 

in  which  all  the  people  joined,  and  thus  ended 
the  effort  to  make  sport  of  the  evangelists. 

"Ho  !  my  comrades,  see  the  signal 

Waving  in  the  sky  ! 
Reinforcements  now  appearing, 

Victory  is  nigh  !  " 

Chorus. 
"  *  Hold  the  fort,  for  I  am  coming," 

Jesus  signals  still, 
Wave  the  answer  back  to  Heaven, 

'  By  thy  grace  we  will.'  " 


"brightly  beams  our  father's  mercy." 

On  a   dark   stormy   night,  when   the    waves 
rolled  like  mountains,  and  not  a  star  was  to  be 


TROPHIES   OF   SONG.  49 

seen,  a  boat,  rocking  and  plunging,  neared  the 
Cleveland  harbor. 

"Are  you  sure  this  is  Cleveland?*'  asked  the 
Captain,  seeing  only  one  light  from  the  light- 
house. 

"  Quite  sure,  sir,"  replied  the  pilot. 

u  Where  are  the  lower  lights?  " 

"  Gone  out,  sir." 

"  Can  you  make  the  harbor?  " 

u  We  must,  or  perish,  sir !  " 

And  with  a  strong  hand  and  a  brave  heart  the 
old  pilot  turned  the  wheel.  But,  alas,  in  the 
darkness  he  missed  the  channel,  and  with  a 
crash  upon  the  rocks  the  boat  was  shivered, 
and  many  a  life  lost  in  a  watery  grave.  Breth- 
ren, the  Master  will  take  care  of  the  great 
light-house ;  let  us  keep  the  lower  lights  burn- 
ing ! 

u  "Mr.  Bliss,  hearing  this  story  from  Mr. 
Moody  wrought  out  its  moral  in  his  well-known 
song,— 

11  Let  the  lower  lights  be  burning  ! 

Send  a  gleam  across  the  wave  ! 
Some  poor  fanting,  struggling  seaman, 

You  may  rescue,  you  may  save." 


60  TROPHIES  OF  SONG. 

"  LIGHT    IN    THE   DARKNESS,   SAILOR." 

This  song  is  founded  on  the  following  inci- 
dent: 

"  We  watched  the  wreck  with  great  anxiety. 
The  life-boat  had  been  out  some  hours,  but  could 
not  reach  the  vessel  through  the  great  breakers 
that  raged  and  foamed  on  the  sand-bank.  The 
boat  appeared  to  be  leaving  the  crew  to  perish. 
But  in  a  few  minutes  the  captain  and  sixteen 
sailors  were  taken  off,  and  the  vessel  went 
down. 

"  When  the  life-boat  came  to  you,  did  you 
expect  it  had  brought  some  tools  to  repair  your 
old  ship?'   I  said. 

" ;  Oh,  no  ;  she  was  a  total  wreck.  Two  of 
her  masts  were  gone,  and  if  we  had  stayed 
mending  her  only  a  few  minutes,  we  must  have 
gone  down,  sir.' 

" 4  When  once  off  the  old  wreck  and  safe  in 
the  life-boat  what  remained  for  you  to  do  ? ' 

444  Nothing,  sir,  but  just  to  pull  for  the  shore.' " 

"  Light  in  the  darkness,  sailor,  day  is  at  hand  ! 
See  o'er  the  foaming  billows  fair  Haven's  land, 
Drear  was  the  voyage,  sailor,  now  almost  o'er, 
Safe  within  the  life-boat,  sailor,  pull  for  the  shore." 


TKOPHIES   OF   SOXG.  51 

u  ONLY    AN   AEMOE-BEAPwEK." 

This  song  was  suggested  by  the  familiar  inci- 
dent of  Jonathan  and  his  armor-bearer: 

"  Now  it  came  to  pass  upon  a  day,  that  Jona- 
than, the  son  of  Saul,  said  unto  the  young  man 
that  bare  his  armor,  Come  and  let  us  go  over  to 
the  Philistines'  garrison,  that  is  on  the  otlier 
side  :  it  may  be  that  the  Lord  will  work  for  us : 
for  there  is  no  restraint  to  the  Lord  to  save  by 
many  or  by  few.  And  his  armor-bearer  said  unto 
him,  "  Do  all  that  is  in  thine  heart ;  turn  thee  : 
behold  I  am  with  thee  according  to  thy  heart. 
And  Jonathan  climbed  up  upon  his  hands  and 
upon  his  feet,  and  his  armor-bearer  after  him  : 
and  they  fell  before  Jonathan  ;  and  his  armor- 
bearer  slew  after  him. 

"  So  the  Lord  saved  Israel  that  day  :  and  the 
battle  passed  over  to  Beth-aven." 

"  Only  an  armor-bearer,  proudly  I  stand, 
Waiting  to  follow  at  the  King's  command  ; 
Marching  if  '  onward '  shall  the  order  be, 
Standing  by  my  Captain,  serving  faithfully." 


"I    AM    COMING    TO    THE    CROSS." 

At  Glasgow,  one    evening    at   eight   o'clock, 
there  was  a  vast  assembly,  of  men  only,  in  the 


52  TROPHIES   OF   SONG. 

City  Hall.  They  were  packed  into  every  cor- 
ner ;  and  outside  were  nearly  as  many*  in  vain 
seeking  entrance.  It  was  a  memorable  time. 
Mr.  Moody's  subject  was,  "  Whosoever,"  —  sal- 
vation absolutely  free,  all  gift ;  nothing  between 
a  sinner  and  eternal  life  but  an  unbroken  will. 
The  mass  of  men  listened  with  intense  interest ; 
now  and  then  you  could  see  a  tear,  or  the  head 
bent  in  deep  emotion.  When  Mr.  Sankey  sang 
the  hymn,  "  I  am  Coming  to  the  Cross,"  nothing 
could  exceed  the  rapt,  silent  attention.  When 
he  came  to  the  verse, — 

"  In  the  promises  I  trust, 

Now  I  feel  the  blood  applied: 
I  am  prostrate  in  the  dust, 

I  with  Christ  am  crucified," 

not  a  head  in  the  vast  multitude  moved,  every 
face  expressed  deep  feeling.  This  verse  was  re- 
peated amid  still  deeper  silence  and  emotion.  At 
the  close,  when  an  invitation  was  given  to  those 
who  minded  to  remain  for  twenty  minutes  sim- 
ply for  prayer,  above  a  thousand  remained,  and 
thereafter  a  large  number  waited  for  conversa- 
tion, although  the  hour  was  late. 


TROPHIES   OF   SONG.  53 

"ring  the  bells  of  heaven." 

An  English  writer  gives  a  touching  incident 
connected  with  this  hymn  from  the  dying  hours 
of  a  Christian  child  of  ten  years. 

She  much  delighted  in  Mr.  Sankey's  hymns. 
"  Oh,  how  I  love  those  dear  hymns!"  —  men- 
tioning, "  Safe  in  the  arms  of  Jesus,"  and  others. 

"  When  I  am  gone,  mother,  will  you  ask  the 
girls  of  the  school  to  sing  that  hymn  ?  — 

"  '  King  the  bells  of  Heaven !  there  is  joy  to-day 

For  a  soul  returning  from  the  wild ! 
See !  the  Father  meets  him  out  upon  the  way, 

Welcoming  his  weary,  wandering  child ! 

Chorus. 
"  'Glory!  glory!  how  the  angels  sing! 
Glory !  glory !  how  the  loud  harps  ring ! ' 
'Tis  the  ransomed  army,  like  a  mighty  sea, 
Pealing  forth  the  anthem  of  the  free. 

"  Ring  the  bells  of  heaven!  spread  the  feast  to-day, 
Angels,  swell  the  glad  triumphant  strain ! 

Tell  the  joyful  tidings,  bear  it  far  away ! 
For  a  precious  soul  is  born  again.' ' 

The  night  before  her  death  she  said, — 
"  Dear  father  and  mother,  I  hope  I  shall  meet 
you  in  Heaven.     I  am  so  happy,  mother  !     You 
cannot   think   how   light   and    happy    I    feel ! " 


54  TROPHIES   OF   SONG. 

Again :  "  Perhaps  Jesus  may  send  me  to  fetch 
some  of  my  brothers  and  sisters;  I  hope  He  will 
send  me  to  fetch  you,  mother." 

Half  an  hour  before  her  departure  she  ex- 
claimed, "  Oh,  mother,  hark  at  the  bells  of  heaven! 
they  are  ringing  so  beautifully  !  " 

Then,  closing  her  eyes  awhile,  presently  she 
cried  again,  "  Hearken  to  the  harps !  they  are 
most  splendid !  Oh,  I  wish  you  could  hear 
them !  " 

Then,  shortly  after,  she  spoke  again  : 

"  Oh,  mother,  I  see  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  the 
angels !  Oh,  if  you  could  see  them  too  !  He  is 
sending  one  to  fetch  me  !  " 

She  had  been  counting  the  hours  and  minutes 
since  she  heard  the  mill-bell  at  1.30  p.m.,  long- 
ing so  earnestly  to  depart ;  yet  expressed  a  hope 
she  might  see  her  dear  father  (then  absent  at 
work)  before  she  went. 

At  last,  just  five  minutes  or  so  before  her  ex- 
piring breath,  she  said, — 

"  Oh,  mother,  lift  me  up  from  the  pillow  — 
high,  high  up  !  Oh,  I  wish  you  could  lift  me 
right  up  into  heaven  !  "  Then,  almost  immedi- 
ately after  —  as,  doubtless,  conscious  that  the 


TROPHIES   OF   SONG.  55 

parting  moment  was  at  hand,  —  "Put  me  down 
again  —  down,  quick  !  " 

And  then,  calmly,  brightly,  joyously  gazing 
upward,  as  at  some  vision  of  surprising  beauty, 
she  peacefully,  sweetly,  triumphantly  breathed 
forth  her  precious  spirit  into  the  arms  of  the 
ministering  angel  whom  her  Jesus  had  sent  to 
fetch  her,  and  so  was  forever  with  the  Lord  she 
loved. 


"IN    THE    CHRISTIANS   HOAIE    IX    GLORY." 

In  one  of  Mr.  Moody's  meetings,  in  England, 
a  speaker  rose  and  said  that  he  had  been  an  actor 
on  the  English  stage  for  some  years  and  had 
written  plays.  He  was  one  night  entertaining  a 
London  theatre  audience,  when  suddenly  a  hymn 
he  had  learned  in  childhood  came  to  his  mind, 
beginning, — 

11  In  the  Christian's  home  in  glory, 
There  remains  a  land  of  rest," 

which  so  unmanned  him  that  lie  was  compelled 
to  go  to  the  manager  and  tell  him  that  he  could 
not  go  on.  lie  stifled  conviction  however,  by 
drinking  heavily  at  the  bar  of  the  theatre.     The 


56  TBOPHIES  OF  SONG. 

religious  impression  then  overcome  he  said  had 
been  renewed  by  the  words  of  Mr.  Moody  and 
Mr.  Sankey  and  he  had  now  given  himself  to 
Christ. 


A  Christian  boy  of  Rev.  Dr.  Talmage's  Sun- 
day-school, when  about  to  die,  said  to  his  mother, 
"  Don't  cry,  but  sing  ;   sing, — 

*  There  is  rest  for  the  weary;5  " 

and  when  they  had  sung  a  verse,  he  put  his 
wasted  hand  over  his  heart,  and  said,  just  before 
it  ceased  its  beating, — 

"  There  is  rest  for  me." 


THE  CHRISTIAN'S  HOME. 

In  the  Christian's  home  in  glory 
There  remains  a  land  of  rest; 

There  my  Saviour's  gone  before  me, 
To  fulfil  my  soul's  request. 

Chorus. 

There  is  rest  for  the  weary, 
There  is  rest  for  the  weary, 

There  is  rest  for  you ; 
On  the  other  side  of  Jordan, 
In  the  sweet  fields  of  Eden, 


TKOPHIES   OF   SONG.  57 

Where  the  tree  of  life  is  blooming, 
There  is  rest  for  you. 

He  is  fitting  up  a  mansion, 

Winch  eternally  shall  stand ; 
For  my  stay  shall  not  be  transient 

In  that  holy,  happy  land. 

Sing,  O  sing,  ye  heirs  of  glory ! 

Shout  your  triumphs  as  you  go; 
Zion's  gates  will  open  for  you, 

You  shall  rind  an  entrance  through. 


"LORD,   I    HEAR    OF    SHOWERS    OF    BLESSING." 

The  singing  leader  in  an  inland  Sunday -school 
was  a  man  of  skeptical  tendencies,  —  moral  and 
upright,  though  far  from  being  a  Christian.  One 
Sunday  this  hymn  was  commenced  as  usual,  but 
when  the  leader  came  to  the  passage, — 

14  Pass  me  not,  O  tender  Saviour, 

Let  me  love  and  chug  to  Thee; 
I  am  longing  for  Thy  favor; 

"Whilst  Thou'rt  calling,  oh,  call  me." 

his  voice  quivered,  his  frame  shook,  and  in 
anguish  he  cried  out,  "  Pray  for  me."  It  was 
a  scene  of  thrilling  interest,  and  earnest  pray- 
ers then  went  up  from  teachers  and  scholars 
that    he    who    had    so    long    sung    the    sweet 


58  TROPHIES  OF   SONG, 

songs  of  Zion  without  feeling  their  power, 
might  now  sing  with  the  spirit  and  the  un- 
derstanding. He  was  happily  converted,  and 
is   now    a   faithful    Christian. 


"  SAFE   IN   THE   ARMS   OF  JESUS." 

— Fannie  J.  Crosby. 
Not  long  ago  we  visited  from  time  to  time, 
till  the  end  came,  a  bright  young  life  that  had 
been  laid  hold  of  by  our  great  British  disease, 
consumption.  Insidious,  but  terribly  sure,  were 
the  advances  made  by  this  fell  waster;  and 
the  watching  was  all  the  more  solemn  because 
the  indications  of  spiritual  life  were  but 
faint  and  dubious.  Not  many  weeks  before  the 
close,  a  young  lady,  one  of  the  recent  converts, 
found  her  way  to  this  stricken  one,  and  began 
a  series  of  visits  which  were  most  welcome.  In 
the  visitor  the  dying  young  woman  found 
one  younger  than  herself,  who  could  sing 
from  experience,  "Safe  in  the  arms  of  Jesus;" 
one  to  whose  sweet  voice  she  listened  with 
pleasure,  so  far  as  the  disease  permitted  ;  one 
whom  she  soon  loved.     It  is  not  permitted  us 


TROPHIES   OF   SONG.  59 

to  see  into  the  hearts  of  others  ;  but  this  seemed 
evident  in  the  case  of  the  poor  sufferer  now 
alluded  to,  that  more  than  any  other  influence 
brought  to  bear  upon  her,  the  hymns,  words,  and 
visits  of  the  young  lady  created  a  longing  to 
know  Jesus  as  her  own  Saviour. 


During  the  revival  meetings  in  Edinburgh,  a 
young  man,  who  was  an  avowed  skeptic,  came 
into  one  of  the  meetings  to  scoff  at  all  he  might 
hear.     He  said  afterwards, — 

"  I  believed  only  in  God  and  the  devil ;  the 
latter  I  served  well  and  sat  laughing  at  the 
Christians  about  me  whom  I  thought  nothing 
better  than  fools." 

At  length  that  beautiful  hymn, — 

"  Safe  in  the  arms  of  Jesus," 

was  sung.  A  sudden  thrill  passed  through  his 
whole  frame  and  then,  like  a  dart  went  to  his 
his  very  soul.  His  feelings  were  awful,  but  he 
listened  to  the  next  verse  and  he  felt,  "  There  is 
a  Saviour.  Who  is  He  ?  Where  is  He  ?  "  He 
quickly  realized  the  truth  that  Jesus  was  his  Sa- 
viour and  he  threw  himself  into  His  arms,  and 


60  TROPHIES   OF   SONG. 

left  the  place,  saying  in  bis  new  joy  and  zeal,  "  I 
will  now  live  and  work  for  Jesus." 


"TO-DAY    THE    SAVIOUR   CALLS/' 

On  the  night  when  the  great  Chicago  fire 
broke  out  Mr.  Moody  spoke  to  an  audience  of 
three  thousand  people,  urging,  as  usual,  immedi- 
ate decision  for  Christ. 

The  song  was  then  sung, — 

"  To-day  the  Saviour  calls: 
Ye  wand'rers  come." 

Ten  persons  stayed  to  give  themselves  to 
Christ,  in  response  to  this  hymn.  At  the  close 
of  the  enquiry  meeting  as  they  went  out  into  the 
street  they  saw  the  whole  sky  lighten  up  with 
the  blaze  of  burning  buildings.  Three,  at  least, 
of  those  ten  persons  perished  in  the  fire.  One 
more  refusal  to  accept  Christ  and  it  would  have 
been  too  late. 


"I   GAVE    MY   LIFE   FOR   THEE." 

The  beautiful  song  of  which  this  is  the  first 
line,  was  suggested  by  the  motto,  "  This  I  did 
for  thee,"  which  a  German  clergyman  placed  un- 


TROPHIES   OF   SONG.  61 

der  a  print  of  "  Christ  on  the  Cross,"  that  hung 
in  his  study.  It  is  said  that  Count  Zinzendorf, 
of  precious  memory,  was  first  taught  to  love  the 
Saviour  by  reading  this  motto. 


Dueixg  a  Western  Sunday-school  Conven- 
tion, there  arose  a  cry  of  dissatisfaction,  "  A 
ring  !  "  "  A  ring  !  "  The  strange  and  false  charge 
was  made  that  the  managers  were  conducting 
the  convention  according  to  some  recent  scheme. 
Quite  a  discordant  excitement  ensued,  during 
which  a  distinguished  singer  who  was  present, 
was  called  on  to  sing.     He  sang, — 

"All  this  I  did  for  thee, 
My  precious  blood  I  shed 
That  thou  might' st  ransomed  be, 
And  rescued  from  the  dead; 
All  this  I  did  for  thee  — 
What  hast  thou  done  for  me?" 

Through  the  song  Christ  seemed  to  whisper 
to  the  discordant  convention,  "  Peace,  be  still," 
and  when  the  song  had  ceased,  a  calm,  Christ- 
like  spirit  had  filled  the  convention  and  contin- 
ued with  it  to  the  end. 


62  TKOPHIES   OF   SONG. 


"  JESUS,   LOVER   OF   MY   SOUL." 

—  Charles  Wesley. 

About  the  time  that  Isaac  Watts  was  writ- 
ing his  earliest  hymns  at  Southampton,  in 
Southern  England,  two  brothers  were  born  in 
the  little  town  of  Epworth,  who  were  destined 
to  be  better  known  over  the  world  than  any 
other  two  men  whom  Britain  produced  in 
that  half  century.  While  their  godly  mother 
(Susannah)  was  dying,  she  said  to  her  weep 
ing  household,  "My  children,  as  soon  as  my 
spirit  is  released,  sing  a  song  of  praise  to  God." 
Among  the  group  who  joined  in  this  song  of 
triumph  with  faltering  voices,  were  John,  the 
founder  of  Methodism,  and  Charles,  its  sweet 
singer.  John  was  system;  Charles  was  song. 
John  was  the  Bezaleel  who  laid  the  founda- 
tions, and  hewed  out  the  pillars  of  the  new 
tabernacle ;  but  Charles  was  the  Asaph  who 
filled  it  with  melody. 

Methodism  was  builded  rapidly ;  but  the  walls 
never  would  have  gone  up  so  fast  had  they 
not  been  built  to  music.     Charles  Wesley  was 


TROPHIES   OF   BOKO.  63 

a  born  poet.  Like  Toplady,  he  was  all  nerve 
and  fire  and  enthusiasm.  God  gave  him  a 
musical  ear,  intense  emotions,  ardent  affec- 
tions, and  a  glowing  piety  that  never  grew 
cold.  He  ate,  drank,  slept  and  dreamed  noth- 
ing but  hymns ! 

He  must  have  been  the  ready  writer  of  at 
least  four  thousand  hymns.  One  day,  while 
on  his  itineracy,  his  pony  stumbled,  and  threw 
him  off.  The  only  record  he  makes  of  the 
accident  in  his  diary  is  this:  "My  compan- 
ions thought  I  had  broken  my  neck;  but  my 
leg  only  was  bruised,  my  hand  sprained,  and 
my  head  stunned,  which  spoiled  my  making 
hymns  until — next  day!"  Truly  a  man  must 
have  been  possessed  with  a  master  passion, 
who  could  have  written  a  sentence  like  that. 

Wesley  found  his  inspirations  "on  every 
hedge." 

He  threw  off  hymns  as  Spurgeon  throws  off 
sermons.  For  example,  when  he  was  preach- 
ing to  a  crowd  of  rude  stonecutters  and  quarry- 
men  at  Portland,  he  turned  his  appeal  into 
metre,  and  improvised  a  hymn,  in  which  occur 
the  vigorous  lines:  — 


64  TKOPHIES   OF  SONG. 

"Come,  O  thou  all- victorious  Lord, 

Thy  power  to  us  make  known; 
Strike  with  the  hammer  of  thy  word, 

And  break  these  hearts  of  stone.,, 

Standing  once  on  the  dizzy  promontory  of 
Land's  End,  and  looking  down  into  the  boiling 
waves  on  each  side  of  the  cliff,  he  broke  out  into 
these  solemn  and  thrilling  words :  — 

"Lo!  on  a  narrow  neck  of  land, 
'Twixt  two  unbounded  seas  I  stand, 

Yet  how  insensible.' ' 

For  every  scene  and  circumstance  of  life,  for 
prayer-meetings,  for  watch  nights,  for  love 
feasts,  and  for  dying  hours  and  funerals,  he  had 
a  holy  impassioned  ky.  But,  like  Watts,  Cow- 
per  and  Toplady,  he  had  his  master-piece. 
The  Lord  of  glory  bestowed  on  Charles  Wesley 
the  high  honor  of  composing  the  finest  heart- 
hymn  in  the  English  tongue.  Jf  the  greatest 
hymn  of  the  cross  is  "  Rock  of  Ages,"  and  the 
greatest  hymn  of  providence  is  Cowper's  "  God 
moves  in  a  mysterious  way,"  and  the  grandest 
battle-hymn  is  Martin  Luther's  "  God  is  our 
refuge,"  then  it  may  be  said,  also,  that  the  queen 
of  all  the  lays  of  holy  love  is  that  immortal 
song  :  — 


TROPHIES   OF   SONG.  65 

"  Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul ! 
Let  me  to  Thy  bosom  fly, 
While  the  billows  near  me  roll, 
While  the  tempest  still  is  high  ! " 

Whatever  may  be  said  of  Wesley's  doctrine 
of  perfect  holiness,  there  is  not  much  doubt 
that  he  attained  "unto  perfection"  when  he 
wrote  this  hymn.  It  is  happily  married,  also, 
to  two  exquisite  tunes,  "  Refuge  and  Martyn," 
both  of  which  are  worthy  of  the  alhance. 
The  first  of  these  tunes  is  a  gem.  The  one 
central,  all  pervading  idea  of  this  matchless 
hymn  is  the  soul's  yearning  for  its  Saviour. 

The  figures  of  speech  vary,  but  not  the 
thought.  In  one  line  we  see  a  storm-tossed 
voyager  crying  out  for  shelter,  until  the 
tempest  is  over.  In  another  line  we  see  a 
timid,  tearful  child,  nestling  in  its  mother's 
arms,  with  the  words  faltering  on  its  tongue, — 

"  Let  me  to  Thy  bosom  fly  ! 
Hangs  my  helpless  soul  on  Thee  ! " 

Two  lines  of  the  hymn  have  been  breathed 
fervently  and  often  out  of  bleeding  hearts. 
When  we  were  once  in  the  valley  of  the  death- 
shade,  with  one  beautiful  child  in  its  new-made 


66  TBOPHIES  OF   SONG. 

grave,  and  the  other  threatened  with  fatal 
disease,  there  was  no  prayer  which  we  uttered 
oftener  than  this, — 

"  Leave,  ah  !  leave  me  not  alone  ; 
Still  support  and  comfort  me." 

We  do  not  doubt  that  tens  of  thousands  of  other 
bereaved  and  wounded  hearts  have  cried  this 
piercing  cry,  out  of  the  depths, — 

"  Still  support  and  comfort  me." 

The  whole  hymn  is  at  once  a  confession 
and  a  prayer.  It  is  a  prayer  in  metre.  And  no 
man  is  prepared  to  sing  these  words  aright 
unless  his  soul  is  filled  with  deepest  and  most 
earnest  longing  after  the  Lord  Jesus.  What  an 
awful  blasphemy  it  is  for  unsanctified  singers  in 
a  choir  to  perform  this  holy  prayer  merely  as  a 
feat  of  musical  skill. 

What  college  boy  would  dare  to  commit  to 
memory  the  Lord's  prayer,  and  speak  it  as  a 
mere  piece  of  declamation  on  the  stage?  Yet 
we  do  not  see  any  difference  between 
declaiming  a  prayer,  and  the  heartless  mockery 
of  performing,  for  musical  effect,  such  words, — 

"Hide  me,  O  my  Saviour,  hide, 
Till  the  storm  of  life  is  past ! " 

9 


TROPHIES   OF   SONG.  67 

Or  that  self-surrender  for  the  dying  hour, — 

"  Oh,  receive  my  soul  at  last ! " 

Words  like  these  are  too  infinitely  solemn  for 
frivolous  lips  in  the  concert-room  or  the  organ- 
loft.  When  a  congregation  sings  such  a 
hymn  as  "  Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul,"  each  person 
should  feel  as  if  he  were  uttering  a  fervent  per- 
sonal prayer  to  the  Son  of  God. 

The  history  of  Charles  Wesley's  incompara- 
ble hymn  would  fill  a  volume.  Millions  have 
sung  it,  and  will  be  singing  it  when  the  mil- 
lennial morn  breaks. 

A  coasting  vessel  once  went  on  the  rocks  in  a 
gale,  in  the  British  Channel.  The  captain 
and  crew  took  to  the  boats  and  were  lost. 
They  might  have  been  saved  had  they  remained 
on  board ;  for  a  huge  wave  carried  the  vessel  up 
among  the  rocks,  where  the  ebbing  tide  left  her 
high  and  dry.  In  the  captain's  cabin  a  hymn- 
book  was  found  lying  on  his  table.  It  was 
opened  to  a  particular  page,  and  the  pencil 
still  lay  in  it  which  had  marked  the  favorite 
lines  of  the  stout  sailor,  who  was  just  about 
going  into  the  jaws  of  death.     While  the  hum- 


68  TROPHIES   OF   SONG, 

cane  was  howling  outside,  the  captain  had 
drawn  his  pencil  beside  these  glorious  words 
of  cheer, — 

"  Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul, 

Let  me  to  thy  bosom  fly, 
While  the  billows  near  me  roll, 

While  the  tempest  still  is  high  ! 
Hide  me,  O  my  Saviour  hide, 

Till  the  storm  of  life  is  past ; 
Safe  into  the  haven  guide, 

Oh,  receive  my  soul  at  last ! " 

Blessed  death  song!  Thousands  of  God's 
redeemed  ones  have  shouted  it  forth  as  the 
" haven"  of  rest  opened  its  celestial  glories 
to  their  view.  If  we  could  choose  the  man- 
ner of  our  departure,  we  would  wish  to  die 
singing,— 

1 '  Other  refuge  have  I  none  ; 

Hangs  my  helpless  soul  on  Thee  ! 
Leave,  ah,  leave  me  not  alone, 

Still  support  and  comfort  me  ; 
All  my  trust  on  Thee  is  stayed, 

All  my  help  from  Thee  I  bring  ; 
Cover  my  defenseless  head, 
With  the  shadow  of  Thy  wing." 
— Rev.  T.  L.  Cuyler,  D.  />.,  in  "Heart  Life." 


TROPHIES   OF   SOXG.  69 

Mr.  Loxg  of  Philadelphia  in  his  work  on 
hymnology  gives  the  following-  incident  as  the 
occasion  of  the  hymn  : 

The  brothers  John  and  Charles  Wesley,  with 
Richard  Pilmore,  were  one  evening  holding  a 
twilight  meeting  on  the  common,  when  thev 
were  attacked  by  a  mob  and  fled  from  its  fury 
for  their  lives.  The  first  place  of  refuge  that 
they  found,  after  having  been  for  some  time 
separated,  was  a  hedge-row  near  at  hand,  behind 
which  they  hid  a  few  minutes,  protecting  them- 
selves from  serious  injury  by  the  missiles  that 
fell  like  hail  about  them,  bv  clasDino;  their  hands 
above  their  heads  as  they  lay  with  their  faces  in 
the  dust.  As  night  drew  on,  the  darkness  en- 
abled them  to  leave  their  temporary  retreat  for 
a  safer  one  at  some  distance.  They  found  their 
way  at  last  to  a  spring-house,  where,  in  compar- 
ative security,  they  waited  for  their  pursuers  to 
weary  of  seeking  them.  "  Here  they  struck  a 
light  with  a  flint-stone,"  dusted  their  soiled  and 
tattered  garments,  and,  after  quenching  their 
thirst,  bathed  their  hands  and  faces  in  the  water 
that  bubbled  from  the  spring  and  flowed  away 
in    a   sparkling    streamlet.     Then    it    was    that 


70  TKOPHIES   OF   SONG. 

Charles  Wesley  was  inspired  to  white,  "  Jesus, 
lover  of  my  soul,"  with  a  bit  of  lead  he  had 
hammered  into  a  pencil. 

These  circumstances  beautifully  illustrate  the 
hymn,  giving  to  almost  every  line  a  reality  that 
makes  it  peculiarly  significant  to  every  loving 
Christian  heart.  They  had  fled  before  their  en- 
emies, and  found  shelter  from  danger :    he  sang : 

"  Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul, 
Let  me  to  thy  bosom  fly" 

No  figure  is  so  commonly  used  with  reference 
to  the  assaults  of  the  wicked  as  that  of  the  line : 

"  While  the  nearer  waters  roll," 

which  is  a  favorite  with  the  psalmist.  The  next 
line 

"  While  the  tempest  still  is  high;  " 

also  reminds  one  of  the  sweet  songs  of  Israel, 
but  seems  above  the  former  appropriate,  recall- 
ing, as  it  does,  the  storm  of  missiles  that  broke 
upon  the  hedge  when  they  were  concealed  be- 
hind it.  The  same  figure,  carried  still  further 
finds  expression  in  the  rest  of  the  first  stanza : 

"  Hide  me,  O  my  Saviour  hide, 
Till  the  stprm  of  life  is  past! 


TROPHIES    OF   BONG.  71 

Safe  into  the  haven  guide, 
O  receive  my  soul  at  last!  " 

There  can  be  no  doubt  but  that  the  little 
spring-house  suggested  "  the  haven  of  eternal 
rest"  for  which  the  soul  of  the  persecuted  evan- 
gelist longed  with  unutterable  desire.  They 
had  barely  escaped  death  by  flying  to  the  only 
place  of  safety  within  their  reach  ;  what  won- 
der then  that  the  poet  should  exclaim, — 

11  Other  refuge  have  I  none, 
Hangs  my  helpless  soul  on  thee :  " 

as  he  thought,  with  a  shudder,  of  the  loneliness 
of  the  first  of  their  flight,  which  is  touchingly 
indicated  in  the  lines, — 

1 '  Leave,  oh,  leave  me  not  alone. 
Still  support  and  comfort  me!" 

The  thought  of  the  first  two  lines  of  this 
second  stanza  is  repeated  in  the  fifth  and  sixth, 
and  followed  by  yet  another  reference  to  the 
period  of  their  greatest  peril.  Christ,  the  only 
hope  of  a  sinner,  is  addressed  in  the  words, — 

"  All  my  trust  in  thee  is  stayed, 
All  my  help  from  thee  I  bring!  M 

and  entreated  to  save  his  soul  when  imperilled, 
as  their  bodies  had  been.     He  prays, — 


72  TROPHIES   OF   SONG. 

"  Cover  my  defenceless  head, 
With  the  shadow  of  thy  wing! " 

The  third  verse  which  is  usually  omitted,  is  a 
passionate  appeal  for  aid  in  weakness  and  ex- 
haustion : 

"  Wilt  thou  not  regard  my  call? 

Wilt  thou  not  accept  my  prayer? 
Lo!  I  sink,  I  faint,  I  fall ! 

Lo!  on  thee  I  cast  my  care! " 

together,  perhaps,  with  a  reminiscence  of  the  aid 
which  they  were  doubtless  able  to  render  one 
another : 

"  Reach  me  out  thy  gracious  hand! 

While  I  of  thy  strength  receive, 
Hoping  against  hope  I  stand. 

Dying,  and  behold  I  live?  " 

The  sufficiency  of  the  Saviour  in  implied  com- 
parison with  any  human  helper,  is  finely  brought 
out  by  the  poet  who,  like  Paul,  evidently  glo- 
ries in  his  own  weakness  : 

"  Tliou,  O  Christ,  art  all  I  want ; 

More  than  all  in  thee  I  find ; 
Eaise  the  fallen,  cheer  the  faint, 

Heal  the  sick  and  lead  the  blind ; 
Just  and  holy  is  thy  name ; 

I  am  all  unrighteousness ; 


TROPHIES   OF   SONG.  73 

False  and  full  of  sin  I  am, 
Thou  art  full  of  truth  and  grace!  " 

The  weakness  of  their  condition  recalls  its 
cause,  the  "  wounds  and  bruises  "  that  have  ever 
been  symbolical  of  sin.  These  had  been  laved 
in  the  limpid  water  flowing  at  their  feet,  hence 
the  strain, — 

11  Plenteous  grace  in  thee  is  found, 

Grace  to  cover  all  my  sin; 
Let  the  healing  stream  abound, 

Make  and  keep  me  pure  within!  " 

They  had  drank,  too,  of  the  water,  and  as  it 
had  refreshed  their  fainting  bodies,  would  the 
Christian  take  refreshment  from  the  water  of 
life.  This  thought  furnished  the  climax  of  the 
hymn,  than  which  a  move  inspiring  could  hardly 
be  framed  in  words.  It  is  the  language  of  per- 
fect confidence  in  the  Redeemer  as  the  source  of 
eternal  life.     He  sings,  O  how  sublimely  ! 

"  Thou  of  life  the  fountain  art; 

Freely  let  me  take  of  thee; 
Spring  thou  up  within  my  heart, 

Eise  to  all  eternity ! ' ' 


A  VERY  touching  incident  in  the  last  days  of 


74  TKOPHIES   OF  SONG. 

the  life  of  the  late  President  Finney  has  just  ap- 
peared. It  was  the  Sabbath.  After  tea,  accord- 
ing to  his  custom,  he  was  walking  about  his 
grounds  with  his  wife  enjoying  a  glowing  sky 
and  a  cool  refreshing  breeze.  Evening  worship 
in  the  church  near  at  hand,  which  he  himself 
had  planned  and  in  which  he  had  preached 
nearly  forty  years,  had  just  begun.  Presently 
there  came  floating  out  of  the  old  sanctuary  the 
familiar  strains  of  the  dear  old  hymn, — 


"  Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul, 

Let  me  to  thy  bosom  fly, 
Where  the  nearer  waters  roll, 

While  the  tempest  still  is  high: 
Hide  me,  O  my  Saviour  hide, 

Till  the  storm  of  life  is  past; 
Safe  into  the  haven  guide, 

O  receive  my  soul  at  last. 

"  Other  refuge  have  I  none, 

Hangs  my  helpless  soul  on  thee: 
Leave,  oh,  leave  me  not  alone, 

Still  support  and  comfort  me. 
All  my  trust  on  thee  is  stayed 

All  my  help  from  thee  I  bring; 
Cover  my  defenceless  head 

With  the  shadow  of  thy  wing." 


TROPHIES   OF   SONG.  70 

He  quickly  caught  it,  devoutly  joined  the  in- 
visible congregation  and  kept  them  company 
to  the  end.  Before  the  morning  dawned  the 
prayer  then  breathed  was  answered,  and  he  who 

had  so  long  trusted  in  Christ  was  "  at  last  "  re- 
ceived into  the  bosom  of  his  Saviour. 


A  fixe,  intelligent  Virginian  young  man, 
while  residing  in  the  West,  became  an  infidel 
and  a  blasphemer  of  the  name  of  God.  From 
this  state  he  was  delivered  by  reading  the  work 
of  Soame  Jenyns ;  but,  while  he  acquiesced  In 
the  truth  of  revelation,  he  yet  did  not  feel  its 
power.  He  was  attacked  by  a  lingering  and 
fatal  disease,  which  led  him  to  reflection  and 
prayer,  but  often  made  it  difficult  for  him  to  con- 
verse. Three  Christian  friends  sometimes  vis- 
ited him,  to  beguile  the  tedious  hours  by  sing- 
ing. They  one  day  entered  his  room,  and, 
almost  without  any  previous  remarks,  began  the 
hymn,— 

11  There  is  a  fountain  filled  with  blood, " 

and  then, — 

M  The  voice  of  free  grace  cries,  Escape  to  the  mountain.,, 


76  TROPHIES   OF   SONG. 

He  then  said  to  them,  "There  is  nothing  I 
so  much  delight  to  hear  as  the  first  hymn  you 
ever  sung  to  me, — 

1  Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul.' " 

We  began  to  sing  it  to  the  tune  of  Martyn, 
and  found  the  solemnity  which  had  reigned 
in  the  little  circle  while  singing  the  two 
former  hymns  began  to  be  changed  to  weep- 
ing. We  struck  the  touching  strains  of  the 
second  stanza,  and  the  weeping  became  loud; 
the  heart  of  him  who  had  reviled  Christ 
broke ;  and  we  feared  that  to  sing  the  re- 
maining stanza  would  be  more  than  he  could 
bear.  When  singing  in  his  room  a  few  days 
after  this,  he  said,  "I  don't  think  I  shall  ever 
hear  '  Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul '  sung  again : 
it  so  excites  me  that  my  poor  body  cannot 
bear  it." 


Several  years  ago,  a  ship  was  burned  near 
the  English  Channel.  Among  the  passengers 
were  a  father,  mother,  and  their  little  child, 
a  daughter  not  many  months  old.  When  the 
discovery  was  made  that  the  ship  was  on  fire, 


TROPHIES    OF    SONG.  i  i 

and  the  alarm  was  given,  there  was  great 
confusion,  and  this  family  became  separated. 
The  father  was  rescued,  and  taken  to  Liver- 
pool; but  the  mother  and  infant  were  carried 
overboard  by  the  crowd,  and,  unnoticed  b}^ 
those  who  were  doing  all  in  their  power  to 
save  the  sufferers  still  on  the  ship,  they 
drifted  out  of  the  channel  with  the  tide,  the 
mother  clinging  to  a  fragment  of  the  wreck, 
with  her  little  one  clasped  to  her  breast. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  of  that  day,  a  vessel 
bound  from  Xewport,  Wales,  to  America,  was 
moving  slowly  along  in  her  course.  There 
was  only  a  slight  breeze,  and  the  captain  was 
impatiently  walking  the  deck,  when  his  at- 
tention was  called  to  an  object  some  distance 
off,  which  looked  like  a  person  in  the  water. 
The  officers  and  crew  watched  it  for  a  time, 
and  as  no  vessel  was  near  from  which  any  one 
could  have  fallen  overboard,  they  thought  it 
impossible  that  this  could  be  a  human  being. 
But,  as  their  vessel  was  scarcely  moving,  it 
was  thought  best  to  get  out  a  boat  and  row 
to  the  object.  The  boat  was  accordingly  low- 
ered and  manned.     It  was  watched  with  con- 


78  TROPHIES   OF  SONG. 

siderable  interest  by  those  who  remained  on 
board,  and  they  noticed  that,  as  it  drew  near 
to  the  drifting  speck,  the  rowers  rested  on 
their  oars  two  or  three  minutes,  then  moved 
forward,  took  in  the  object  or  thing,  they 
knew  not  which,  and  returned  to  the  ship. 
When  the  boat's  crew  came  on  board,  they 
brought  with  them  this  mother  and  her  child, 
alive  and  well;  and  the  sailors  said  that, 
as  they  drew  near,  they  heard  a  female  voice 
sweetly  singing.  As  with  a  common  impulse, 
the  men  ceased  rowing  and  listened,  and  then 
the  words  of  the  beautiful  hymn,  sung  by  this 
trusting  Christian,  all  unconscious  that  deliver- 
ance was  so  near,  came  over  the  waves  to 
their  ears:  — 

"  Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul, 

Let  me  to  Thy  bosom  fly, 
While  the  waters  near  me  roll, 

While  the  tempest  still  is  high  ! 
Hide  me,  O  my  Saviour,  hide, 

Till  the  storm  of  life  is  past ; 
Safe  into  the  haven  guide, 

Oh,  receive  my  soul  at  last. 

Other  refuge  have  I  none, 

Hangs  my  helpless  soul  on  thee  ! 
Leave,  ah,  leave  me  not  alone, 


J 


TROPHIES   OF   SONG.  79 

Still  support  and  comfort  me  ; 
All  my  trust  on  Thee  is  stayed, 

All  my  help  from  Thee  I  bring  ; 
Cover  my  defenseless  head, 

With  the  shadow  of  Thy  wing." 

In  due  time  the  vessel  arrived  in  America. 
The  mother  wrote  to  her  friends  in  England, 
and  thus  the  father  learned  of  the  safety  of 
his  wife  and  child,  and  in  about  four  months 
from  the  time  of  their  separation  they  were 
happily  reunited. 


A  POOR  woman,  who  had  no  hope  in  Christ, 
was  dying  in  the  attic  of  one  of  the  New 
York  tenement  houses.  A  minister  was  sent 
for,  but  his  words  and  prayers  failed  to  give 
her  hope.  She  said  again  and  again,  as  he 
talked  to  her,  "It's  no  use;  I'm  too  wicked, 
and  it's  too  late."  At  length  he  began  to 
sing,  "  Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul,"  and  sang 
two  verses.  Noticing  her  deep  interest,  he 
turned  to  her  and  said,  "  Can't  you  trust  him 
now?"  With  a  smile  of  joy  she  replied, 
"  Other  refuge  have  I  none"  Her  happy  face 
showed  her  acceptance  of  Jesus. 


80  TEOPHIES   OF  SONG. 

We  were  a  happy  company  of  Sunday-school 
scholars  and  friends  on  Lake  Winnipeseogee. 
The  day  had  been  spent  most  pleasantly.  The 
"  Lady  of  the  Lake  "  had  come  alongside  the 
wharf  and  with  a  clear,  sharp  note  from  her  clar- 
ion bell  had  invited  us  a^ain  on  board.  Friends 
from  shore  and  on  the  water  waved  their  friendly 
"  good-by."  Seated  upon  the  upper  deck,  antic- 
ipating a  most  charming  ride  upon  the  lake,  the 
fastenings  were  unloosed  and  we  shot  out  upon 
the  clear  ample  waters,  and  were  fairly  on  our 
course,  anticipating  an  hour's  enjoyment  only 
afforded  by  such  a  company  and  such  an  occa- 
sion. All  at  once  we  were  confronted  by  one  of 
the  most  terrific  storms  of  wind,  rain,  lightning 
and  thunder  ever  known  by  the  captain  of  the 
boat  in  an  experience  of  twenty-five  years. 

Terror  now  took  possession  of  nearly  all,  as 
well  it  might.  In  a  confusion  amounting  almost 
to  a  panic,  all  rushed  for  the  cabin's  hold.  Hap- 
pening to  be  among  the  last  to  leave  the  deck, 
and  standing  about  midway  on  the  stairs,  we 
witnessed  a  scene  such  as  we  had  never  be- 
held before,  and  never  wish  to  re-experience. 
Women  were  crying  and  fainting,  children  were 


TEOPHIES   OF   SONG.  81 

frantic  with  fright,  and  strong,  full-grown  men 
stood  pale  and  trembling.  We  tried  to  inspire 
calmness  and  composure,  but  to  very  little  pur- 
pose. We  remembered  being  in  the  coliseum  at 
Boston  on  the  4th  of  July  of  last  year,  when  a 
terrible  hurricane  and  storm  burst  upon  us. 
What  seemed  an  inevitable  and  fearful  panic, 
was  turned  into  huzzas  when  the  English  band 
changed  from  a  classic  selection  to  our  own  pa- 
triotic "  Yankee  Doodle."  We  did  not  strike 
up  any  of  the  national  airs,  but  just  wThat  was 
in  our  heart  at  the  time, — 

"I  am  trusting,  Lord,  in  thee, 
Dear  Lamb  of  Calvary." 

The  sentiment  found  a  response  in  other 
hearts  ;  we  did  not  sing  alone.  Others  joined, 
and  our  voices  were  above  the  tumult  within 
and  the  roar  of  the  hurricane  without,  and  there 
was  a  calm.  But  without,  the  storm  raged  with 
increased  fury,  and  its  roar  was  fearful.  Then 
we  sang, — 

11  Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul, 
Let  me  to  try  bosom  fly." 

The  lightning's  flash  seemed  almost  to  envelope 


82  TEOPHIES   OF   SONG. 

us  in  a  sheet  of  flame,  and  the  thunders  seemed 
to  shake  the  earth  and  sea.  And  then  we 
sang,— 

"  Other  refuge  have  I  none; 
Hangs  my  helpless  soul  on  11100." 

The  gallant  boat,  in  whose  palpitating  bosom 
we  had  taken  refuge,  met  the  storm  bravely,  but 
the  gale  was  too  mighty;  she  was  beaten  back 
by  the  buffeting  winds  and  waves,  and  imperilled 
by  hidden  rocks  ;  and  then  we  sang, — 

"Thou,  O  Christ,  art  all  I  want, 
More  than  all  in  Thee  I  find." 

But  the  heart  of  the  hurricane  began  to  be 
touched  and  the  winds  to  relent ;  the  lightning 
had  a  softer  glare,  and  the  thunder  fell  more 
tenderly  in  our  ears ;    so  we  sang, — 

"  Ere  we  rcaeh  the  shining  river, 

Lay  we  every  burden  down, 
Grace  our  spirits  shall  deliver, 

And  provide  a  robe  and  crown." 

Now  there  is  a  calm.  The  hurricane  has  sped 
on  with  its  accompaniment  of  flood  and   terror, 


i 


TROPHIES   OF   SONG.  88 

and  has  left  us  out  in  the  full  clear  sunshine. 
The  shore  and  destination  are  in  view  towards 
sunset ;    and  now  we  will  sing, — 

"Land  ahead,  its  fruits  arc  waving," 

and  we  ring  out  the  chorus, — 

11  Rocks  and  storms  I'll  fear  no  more, 
"When  on  that  eternal  shore." 

And  now  the  "  Lady  of  the  Lake,"  in  her 
grandest  majesty,  sweeps  in  graceful  curve 
to  make  her  landing,  when  again  we  all 
sang,— 

"Now  we're  safe  from  all  temptation, 
All  the  storms  of  life  are  past," 

and  the 

"  Rocks  and  storms  we'll  fear  no  more; 
"When  on  that  eternal  shore, 
Drop  the  anchor,  furl  the  sail ; 
I  am  safe  within  the  veil." 

The  singing  saved  us  from  a  panic  ;  and,  saved 
from  that,  we  were  saved  from  consequences  we 
dared  not  contemplate.  The  twilight  found  us 
all  safe  at  our  homes. 


84  TROPHIES  OF   SONG. 

Other  refuge  have  I  none, 

Hangs  my  helpless  soul  on  Thee  ; 
Leave,  ah,  leave  me  not  alone, 

Still  support  and  comfort  me  ; 
All  my  trust  on  Thee  is  stayed, 

All  my  help  from  Thee  I  bring  ; 
Cover  my  defenseless  head, 

With  the  shadow  of  Thy  wing. 


A  CHAPLAIN  in  our  army  one  morning  found 
Tom,  the  drummer-boy,  a  great  favorite  with 
ail  the  men,  and  whom,  because  of  his  sobriety 
and  religious  example,  they  called  "the  young 
deacon,"  sitting  alone  under  a  tree.  At  first  he 
thought  him  asleep,  but,  as  he  drew  near,  the 
boy  lifted  up  his  head,  and  he  saw  tears 
in  his   eyes. 

"Well,  Tom,  my  boy,  what  is  it;  for  I 
see  your  thoughts  are  sad?     What  is  it?" 

"  Why,  sir,  I  had  a  dream  last  night,  which 
I   can't  get  out  of  my   mind." 

"  What  was  it  ?  " 

"  You  know  that  my  little  sister  Mary  is 
dead — died  when  ten  years  old.  My  mother 
was  a  widow,  poor,  but  good.  She  never 
seemed  like  herself  afterwards.  In  a  year  or 
so,  she  died,  too ;  and  then  I,  having  no  home, 


TROPHIES    OF   SONG. 


St 


and  no  mother,  came  to  the  war.  But  last 
night  I  dreamed  the  war  was  over,  and  I 
went  back  to  my  home,  and  just  before  I  got  to 
the  house,  my  mother  and  little  sister  came  out 
to  meet  me.  I  didn't  seem  to  remember  they 
were  dead !  How  glad  they  were  !  And 
how  my  mother,  in  her  smiles,  pressed  me  to  her 
heart !  Oh,  sir,  it  was  just  as  real  as  you 
are   real   now !  " 

"  Thank  God,  Tom,  that  you  have  such  a 
mother,  not  really  dead,  but  in  heaven,  and  that 
you  are  hoping,  through  Christ,  to  meet  her 
again."  The  boy  wiped  his  eyes  and  was 
comforted. 

The  next  day  there  was  terrible  fighting. 
Tom's  drum  was  heard  all  day  long,  here  and 
there.  Four  times  the  ground  was  swept 
and  occupied  by  the  two  contending  armies. 
But  as  the  night  came  on,  both  paused,  and 
neither  dared  to  go  on  the  field,  lest  the  foe 
be  there.  Tom,  "the  young  deacon,"  it  was 
known,  was  wounded  and  left  on  the  battle- 
field. His  company  encamped  near  the 
battle-field.  In  the  evening,  when  the  noise  of 
battle  was  over,  and  all  was  still,   they   heard 


86  TROPHIES   OF  SONG. 

a  voice  singing,  away  off  on  the  field.  They 
felt  sure  it  was  Tom's  voice.  Softly  and 
beautifully  the  words  floated  on  the  wings  of 
night,— 

"  Jesus  !  lover  of  my  soul, 
Let  me  to  Thy  bosom  fly, 
"While  the  billows  near  me  roll, 

While  the  tempest  still  is  high. 
Hide  me,  O  my  Saviour,  hide, 
Till  the  storm  of  life  is  past ! 
Safe  into  the  haven  guide, 
Oh,  receive  my  soul  at  last. 

Other  refuge  have  I  none, 
Hangs  my  helpless  soul  on  Thee  ! 

Leave,  ah  !  leave  me  not  alone, 
Still  support  and  comfort  me  I"  — — 

The  voice  stopped  here,  and  there  was  silence. 
In  the  morning  the  soldiers  went  out  and  found 
Tom  sitting  on  the  ground,  and  leaning  against 
a  stump — dead!  His  soul  went  up  in  the 
song.  Did  his  mother  and  Mary  meet  him? 
Whc  can  say  ?  But  poor  Tom  was  not  created 
for  this  world,  was  he  ?  — 


"  EOCK  OF  AGES,  CLEFT  FOR  ME." 

—  Augustus  Toplady. 
Belcher  writes: — "The  death  of  the  author 


TROPHIES  OF   BONG.  °t 

of  this  favorite  hymn  was  indeed  that  of  the 
Christian.  A  short  time  before  his  decease,  at 
his  own  request,  his  physician  felt  his  pulse, 
and  was  asked  what  he  thought  of  it.  His 
reply  was  that  "  the  heart  and  arteries  beat 
weaker  and  weaker;"  the  reply  of  the  dying 
saint,  as  the  sweetest  of  smiles  sat  on  his 
countenance,  was,  "Why,  that  is  a  good  sign 
my  death  is  fast  approaching  ;  and,  blessed  be 
God,  I  can  add  that  my  heart  beats  every 
day  stronger  and  stronger  for  glory."  Still 
nearer  to  his  end  he  said,  "  Oh,  my  dear  sir, 
it  is  impossible  to  describe  how  good  God 
is  to  me !  Since  I  have  been  sitting  in  this 
chair  this  afternoon,  glory  be  to  His  name,  I 
have  enjoyed  such  a  season,  such  sweet  com- 
munion with  God,  and  such  delightful  manifes- 
tations of  his  presence  and  love  to  my  soul, 
that  it  is  impossible  for  any  language  to  ex- 
press them.  I  have  had  peace  and  joy  unutter- 
able ;  and  I  fear  not  that  God's  consolations 
and  support  will  continue."  But  immediately 
recollecting  himself,  he  continued,  "  What 
have  I  said?  God  may,  to  be  sure,  as  a  Sover- 
eign,  hide  his   face   and   his   smiles   from   me. 


88  TEOPHIES   OF   SOKG. 

However,  I  believe  he  will  not;  and  if  he 
should,  yet  will  I  trust  in  him.  I  know  I  am 
safe  ;  for  his  love  and  his  covenant  are  ever- 
lasting." Within  an  hour  of  his  death,  he 
said,  "  It  will  not  be  long  before  God  takes 
me;  for  no  mortal  man  can  live"  —  bursting, 
while  he  said  it,  into  tears  of  joy,  "  after  the 
glories  which  God  has  manifested  to  my  soul." 


Dr.  Pomeroy,  in  speaking  of  a  visit  he  made 
a  few  years  ago  to  an  Armenian  Church  in 
Constantinople,  says  that  he  was  greatly  pleased 
with  their  singing,  though  he  could  not  un- 
derstand the  words.  They  all  sung  the  same 
part,  and  while  singing  the  hymns  their  eyes 
were  closed,  and  as  they  sung  the  tears  trickled 
down  over  many  cheeks. 

On  inquiry  what  the  hymn  was,  one  of  the 
missionaries  told  him  it  was, — 

"  Bock  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me  ! " 

O  that  the  singing  of  these  precious  words 
would  have  like  effect  on  the  members  of 
our  American  churches ! 

Dr.  T.  L.  Cuyler  says  of  this  hymn  :  —  "  Of 
all  its   lines  the   two   finest    are    those   which 


TROPHIES   OF   SOXG. 


89 


are   carved    on   a    monument     in    Greenwood, 
beneath  the  figure  of  Faith  kneeling  at  a  cross : 

"  Nothing  in  my  hands  I  bring, 
Simply  to  Thy  cross  I  cling." 


A  little  girl  of  my  acquaintance  was  once 
looking  at  a  picture,  which  represents  a  rock  in 
the  midst  of  a  stormy  sea,  bearing  upon  its  sum- 
mit a  cross  to  which  a  female  figure  just  recov- 
ered from  the  angry  waves  clings,  faint  and  ex- 
hausted, while  at  her  feet  a  hand,  grasping  a 
part  of  the  wreck,  is  just  disappearing  in  the 
black  water. 

"What  does  that  mean,"  asked  the  child. 

"It  is  called  'The  Rock  of  Ages,'"  was 
the  answer. 

"That  means  Jesus,  to  whom  we  cling  for 
salvation." 

"  You  know  the  hymn  says,  ;  Other  refuge 
have  I  none.' " 

"  Oh !  yes,"  said  the  child,  after  a  moment's 
hesitation,  "  but  that  rock  isn't  my  Jesus ;  when 
I  cling  to  him  he  reaches  down  and  clings  too." 

The  following  beautiful  poem  is  in  itself  a 
commentary  on  this  popular  hymn  :  — 


90  TROPHIES   OF   SONG, 

"  ROCK   OF  AGES." 

"  Rock  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me," 

Thoughtlessly  the  maiden  sung, 
Fell  the  words  unconsciously 

From  her  girlish,  gleeful  tongue  ; 
Sang  as  little  children  sing  ; 

Sang  as  sing  the  birds  in  June  ; 
Fell  the  words  like  light  leaves  down 

On  the  current  of  the  tune  — 
"  Rock  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me, 

Let  me  hide  myself  in  Thee." 

11  Let  me  hide  myself  in  Thee," 

Felt  her  soul  no  need  to  hide  ; 
Sweet  the  song  as  song  could  be — 

And  she  had  no  thought  beside  ; 
All  these  words  unheedingly 

Fell  from  lips  untouched  by  care, 
Dreaming  not  that  each  might  be 

On  some  other  lips  a  prayer — 
"  Rock  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me, 

Let  me  hide  myself  in  Thee." 

"  Rock  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me" — 

'Twas  a  woman  sung  them  now, 
Pleadingly  and  prayerfully  ; 

Every  word  her  heart  did  know, 
Rose  the  song  as  storm-tossed  bird 

Beats  with  weary  wing  the  air, 
Every  note  with  sorrow  stirred — 

Every  syllable  a  prayer — 
"  Rock  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me, 

Let  me  hide  myself  in  Thee." 


TKOPHLES   OF   SONG. 

"Pwock  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me," 

Lips  grown  aged  sung  the  hymn 
Trustingly  and  tenderly  — 

Voice  grown  weak  and  eyes  grown  dim, 
"Let  me  hide  myself  in  Thee," 

Trembling  though  the  voice,  and  low, 
Ban  the  sweet  strain  peacefully, 

Like  a  river  in  its  flow. 
Sung  as  only  they  can  sing 

"Who  life's  thorny  paths  r±ave  pressed  ; 
Sung  as  only  they  can  sing 

"Who  behold  the  promised  rest  — 
"  Eock  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me, 
Let  me  hide  myself  in  Thee." 

u  Eock  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me," 

Sung  above  a  coffin-lid  ; 
Underneath,  all  restfully, 

All  life's  joys  and  sorrows  hid. 
Nevermore,  O  storm-tossed  soul  I 

Nevermore  from  wind  or  tide, 
Nevermore  from  billow's  roll, 

"SVilt  thou  need  thyself  to  hide. 
Could  the  sightless,  sunken  eyes, 

Closed  beneath  the  soft  gray  hair, 
Could  the  mute  and  stiffened  lips 

Move  again  in  pleading  prayer, 
Still,  aye,  still,  the  words  would  be, 
u  Let  me  hide  mvself  in  Thee." 


91 


"all  hail  tile  power  of  jests'  name  I  " 

—  Re  >: .  EJ.tr  ard  1J>.  rro  n  et. 
About  the  year  1808,  this  grand  old  hymn 


92  TEOPHIES   OF   SONG. 

was  printed  at  Canterbury  on  a  card,  for  the 
Sunday  School,  to  which  is  appended  the  follow- 
ing notice  of  the  author: — "  The  Eev.  Edward 
Perronet  died  at  Canterbury,  January  2d,  1792. 
His  dying  words  were,  *  Glory  to  God  in  the 
height  of  his  divinity!  Glory  to  God  in  the 
depth  of  his  humanity !  Glory  to  God  in  his 
all-sufficiency !  and  into  his  hands  I  commend 
my  spirit.'  " — Belcher. 


The  late  William  Dawson,  a  very  plain  man, 
but  a  highly  popular  local  preacher  among 
the  Wesleyan  Methodists  of  England,  was,  some 
years  since,  preaching  in  London  on  the  offices 
of  Christ.  After  presenting  him  as  the  great 
teacher  and  Priest,  who  made  himself  an  offer- 
ing for  sin,  the  preacher  introduced  him  as 
the  King  of  saints.  Having  shown  that  he  was 
king  in  his  own  right,  he  proceeded  to  the  coro- 
nation. Borrowing  his  ideas  from  scenes  fa- 
miliar to  his  audience,  he  marshalled  the  im- 
mense procession  moving  toward  the  grand 
temple  to  place  the  insignia  of  royalty  upon 
the  King  of  the  Universe.  So  vividly  did 
the  preacher  present  the  scene,  that  his  hearers 


TEOPHIES   OF   SONG. 


93 


almost  thought  they  were  gazing  upon  that  long 
line  of  patriarchs  and  kings,  prophets  and 
apostles,  martyrs  and  confessors  of  every  age 
and  clime,  until  at  length  the  great  temple  was 
filled,  and  the  solemn  and  imposing  ceremony 
of  coronation  was  about  to  take  place.  The 
audience  by  this  time  were  wrought  up  to  the 
highest  pitch  of  excitement ;  and,  while  mo- 
mentarily expecting  to  hear  the  anthem  peal  out 
from  the  vast  assemblage,  the  preacher  com- 
menced singing, — 

"  All  hail  the  power  of  Jesus'  name  ! " 

The  effect  was  electrical.  The  audience  started 
to  their  feet  and  sang  the  hymn  with  such  spirit 
and  feeling  as  perhaps  it  was  never  sang  before 
or  since. — Belcher. 


"  THERE  IS  A  FOUNTAIN  FILLED  WITH  BLOOD." 

—  William  Coicper. 
A  notobious  robber  of  New  York  grew 
weary  of  his  sinful  life,  and  wanted  to  become 
a  Christian,  but  almost  despaired  of  being  saved. 
A  Christian  man  talked  and  prayed  with  him, 
but  could  not  give  him  any  encouragement. 
He   then   sansr   the  first  verse   of  — 


94  TROPHIES   OF  SONG. 

"  There  is  a  fountain  rilled  with  blood," 

but  the  poor  man  said,  "  there  is  nothing  in  that 
for  me."     He  then  sang  the  second  verse, — 

"  The  dying  thief  rejoiced  to  see 
That  fountain  in  his  day  ; 
And  there  may  I,  though  vile  as  he} 
Wash  all  my  sins  away." 

"  That  means  me"  said  the  penitent  robber. 
Hope  sprung  up  in  his  heart,  and  he  was 
soon  after  happily  converted. 


A  POOR  Sabbath  scholar  has  fallen  down  a 
hatchway  and  broken  his  hip.  The  doctor 
says  he  is  internally  injured,  and  that  he 
cannot  help  him.  The  boy's  teacher  is  sent 
for,  and  is  surprised  at  the  greeting  he  re- 
ceived. "  Teacher,  you  are  just  in  time  to 
hear  my  great  joy;  I  am  going  home  to 
Jesus."  "I  did  not  know  you  ever  thought 
about  such  things,  John;  how  long  have  you 
felt  so  ?  "  "  Dear  teacher,  you  never  asked 
me ;  I  have  been  longing  to  have  you  for  six 
months.  Now  sing  my  favorite  hymn  with 
me,  dear  teacher."  And  while  they  sang  the 
sweet  words, — 


TROPHIES    OF   SONG.  95 

M  And  sinners  plunged  beneath  that  flood, 
Lose  all  their  guilty  stains," 

the  messenger  came  to  call  the  lad  Home. 


Shortly  after  the  visit  of  Mr.  Moody  and 
Mr.  Sankey  to  Scotland,  a  little  boy  passed 
along  the  streets  of  Glasgow  in  the  evening  sing- 
ing* 

11  There  is  a  fountain  filled  with  bloocL" 

A  Christian  policeman  joined  in  the  song.  At 
the  end  of  the  policeman's  beat  he  asked  the  boy 
if  he  understood  what  he  was  singing. 

"  Oh  yes,  said  the  little  fellow,  "  I  know  it  in 
my  heart  and  it  is  very  precious" 

A  few  evenings  afterward  some  one,  in  con- 
versation with  the  policeman,  said: 

"Do  you  know  that  a  woman  standing  where 
we  are  was  awakened  and  saved  by  hearing  the 
other  night  a  hymn  sung  by  a  policeman  and  a 
boy?" 

11  E'er  since  by  faith  I  saw  the  stream 

Thy  flowing  wounds  supply, 
Redeeming  love  has  been  my  theme 

And  shall  be  till  I  die. 


96  TEOPHIES   OF   SONG. 

"Then  in  a  nobler,  sweeter  song 

I'll  sing  thy  power  to  save, 
"When  this  poor,  lisping,  stammering  tongue 

Lies  silent  in  the  grave." 


In  a  religious  awakening  a  pastor  invited  a 
meeting  of  the  young  people  of  his  congregation 
in  the  parsonage.  The  room  was  thronged  with 
anxious  inquirers.  During  the  opening  exer- 
cises he  observed  a  young  lady  deeply  affected. 
She  was  one  of  the  most  estimable  young  ladies 
of  his  congregation,  one  whose  amenity  of  man- 
ner and  purity  of  life  might  have  been  copied  to 
advantage  by  many  of  the  members  of  his 
church.  Calling  her  by  name,  he  inquired, 
u  What  has  brought  you  here  ?  " 

"  My  sins,  sir,"  was  her  deep  and  earnest  re- 
sponse. 

"  But,"  said  he,  wishing  to  test  the  soundness 
of  her  convictions,  "  what  have  you  done  that 
you  should  feel  so  deeply  ?  " 

"  O,  sir,"  said  she,  u  I  hate  God,  and  I  know 
it." 

Perhaps  never  before  that  hour  had  she  com- 


TROPHIES   OF   SONG.  97 

prehended  how  deep  and  fearful  is  the  enmity 
of  the  carnal  mind  to  God. 

"  I  hate  God,  and  I  know  it ;  I  have  a  heart 
opposed  to  all  good  ;  I  hate  my  own  life,  and 
now  see  how  empty  and  worthless — nay,  how 
insulting  to  God  —  have  been  all  my  good  deeds, 
with  which  I  thought  to  merit  his  favor!  O 
how  utterly  wretched  and  lost  is  my  soul !  " 

She  rose  and  went  into  an  adjoining  room. 
There  she  paced  the  floor  to  and  fro,  in  an  agony 
of  soul  bordering  upon  despair. 

"  What  mockery  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  How 
have  I  deceived  and  ruined  my  soul !  My  con- 
demnation is  just !  But  O,  my  God,  where  shall 
deliverance  be  found  ?  " 

Just  then  she  took  a  hymn-book,  and  her  eye 
lit  upon  this  stanza : 

"  There  is  a  fountain  filled  with  blood, 

Drawn  from  Immanuel's  veins; 
And  sinners,  plunged  beneath  that  flood, 

Lose  all  their  guilty  stains." 

In  one  moment  she  was  enabled,  by  faith, 
to  plunge  beneath  that  flood.  Quicker  than 
thought  light  broke  in  upon  her  soul;   the  Di- 


98  TKOPHIES  OF  SONG. 

vine  Spirit  filled  her  with  his  presence,  and  she 
burst  forth  into  an  exultant  song, — 

"  My  God  is  reconciled; 

His  pard'ning  voice  I  hear: 
He  owns  me  for  his  child 

I  can  no  longer  fear." 


At  Hamilton  Camp-meeting  a  man,  whose 
vices  had  made  him  miserable,  stopped  at  one  of 
the  tents  where  he  heard  them  singing, — 

"  There  is  a  fountain  filled  with  blood." 

He  heard  the  first  verse  : 
"  That's  not  for  me." 
The  second  began, — 

"  The  dying  thief  rejoiced  to  see 
That  fountain  in  his  day  —  " 

"  That's  for  me  !  That's  for  me  !  and  a  few 
minutes  later  he  was  kneeling  in  the  tent  pray- 
ing for  mercy,  which  he  soon  found. 


"oh,  for  a  thousand  tongues  to  sing" 

—  Charles  Wesley. 
Charles  Wesley,  when  speaking  to  Peter 
Bohler  of  the  sense  of  pardon  sealed  on  his  con- 
science, said :    "  I  suppose  I   had   better   keep 


TKOPHIES   OF   SOXG.  99 

silent  about  it."  The  good  Moravian  shook  him 
by  the  hand  and  replied,  "  Oh !  no,  my  brother  ; 
if  you  had  a  thousand  tongues,  go  and  use  them 
all  for  Jesus  ;  "  and  he  went  home  and  wrote  :— 

"  Oh,  for  a  thousand  tongues  to  sing 

My  great  Redeemer's  praise; 
The  glories  of  my  God  and  King, 

The  triumphs  of  his  grace. 

"  My  gracious  Master,  and  my  God, 

Assist  me  to  proclaim, — 
To  spread  through  all  the  earth  abroad, 

The  honors  of  thy  name. 

M  Jesus,  the  name  that  charms  my  fears 

That  bids  our  sorrows  cease ; 
'Tis  music  in  the  sinner's  ears, 

1  Tis  life,  and  health,  and  peace. 

He  breaks  the  power  of  cancell'd  sin, 

He  sets  the  pris'ner  free; 
His  blood  can  make  the  foulest  clean; 

His  blood  avail' d  for  me." 


This  hyrnn  is  also  said  to  have  been  written 
by  the  author  on  the  first  anniversary  of  the 
conversion  of  himself  and  his  brother  John. 
It  originally  contained  eighteen  verses,  and 
was   entitled    "  For    the   Anniversary   of    One's 


100  TEOPHIES   OF   SONG. 

Conversion"      It    was    first   published    in    the 
year  1739. 


During-  the  great  conflagration  in  Chicago, 
the  Grace  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  with 
many  others,  was  burned.  The  pastor,  Rev. 
Mr.  Parkhurst,  after  toiling  all  night  with 
and  among  the  sufferers,  pointing  them  to  the 
many  mansions  on  high,  and  the  temple  not 
made  with  hands,  where  no  fire  shall  con- 
sume, met  three  hundred  of  his  homeless  peo- 
ple on  the  ruins  of  their  late  beautiful  house 
of  worship,  and  sang:  — 

"  Oh,  for  a  thousand  tongues  to  sing 
My  great  Redeemer's  praise." 


"NEARER,   MY   GOD,    TO   THEE." 

— Sarah  Flower  Adams. 

Dr.  Cuyler  says  of  Sarah  Flower,  the  wri- 
ter of  this  soul-stirring  hymn:  "She  was 
worthy  of  her  name.  For  '  Sarah '  signifies 
a  princess,  and  a  sweeter  fragrance  has  rarely 
exhaled  from  any  flower  in  the  garden  of  the 
Lord.     This   gifted   girl   married   Mr.   William 


TEOPHIES    OF    SOXG.  101 

B.  Adams,  an  English  civil  engineer  of  supe- 
rior abilities.  She  was  of  frail  constitution, 
and  amid  many  bodily  sufferings  she  kept  her 
pen  at  work  upon  various  poetical  productions. 
At  what  time  she  caught  the  inspiration  to 
compose  that  one  immortal  hymn,  which  is 
now  sung  around  the  globe,  we  have  never 
learned.  Probably  it  was  some  season  of  pe- 
culiar trial,  when  the  bruised  spirit  emitted 
the  odors  of  a  child-like  submission  to  a 
chastening  Father.  It  must  have  oozed  from 
a  bleeding  heart.  Her  hymn  first  appeared 
in  a  volume  of  sacred  lyrics,  published  hy  a 
Mr.  Fox,  in  England,  about  the  3~ear  1841. 
The  authoress  did  not  live  to  catch  the  echoes 
of  the  fame  it  was  to  bring,  for  she  died  in 
1819,  at  the  age  of  44.  She  was  buried  in 
Harlow,  in  Essex,  and  for  several  years  her 
name  was  known  to  but  few  beyond  the  cir- 
cle of  loving  friends  who  read  it  on  her  mon- 
ument. Presently  the  hymn  began  to  work 
its  way  into  various  collections  of  songs  for 
worship.  It  crossed  to  America.  It  was 
heard  with  delight  in  our  prayer  meetings. 
It  was  married  to  the  noble  tune    of   "Beth- 


102  TROPHIES   OF   SONG. 

any,"  and  everybody  caught  the  glorious 
strain.  In  noonday  gatherings  for  prayer,  it 
soon  became  so  familiar  that  if  any  one  "  struck 
up "  the  hymn  the  whole  audience   joined  in. 


"my  faith  looks  up  to  thee." 

— Bay  Palmer,  D.  D. 

It  is,  by  far,  the  most  precious  contribution 
which  American  genius  has  yet  made  to  the 
hymnology  of  the  Christian  church.  The 
author  of  it  was  a  native  of  "  Little  Comp- 
ton,"  in  Rhode  Island,  and  was  graduated 
from  old  Yale  in  1830.  Immediately  after 
leaving  college  he  came  to  New  York,  and 
spent  a  few  hours  each  day  in  teaching  young 
ladies  in  a  school  which  stood  in  the  then 
fashionable  quarter  of  Fulton  Street,  behind 
St.  Paul's  church.  In  December  of  that  year 
(1830),  just  forty  years  ago,  he  sat  down  one 
day  in  his  room,  and  wrote  in  his  pocket 
memorandum  book  four  simple  verses,  which 
he  says  "were  born  of  my  own  soul,"  and 
were  not  written  to  be  seen  by  another  eye. 
He    wrote    them   rapidly,    and   with    his    eyes 


TROPHIES   OF   BONG.  1(^3 

swimming  in  tears.  The  first  verse  reads 
thus : — 

"  My  faith  looks  up  to  Thee, 
Thou  Lamb  of  Calvary, 

Saviour  divine  ! 
Xow  hear  me  while  I  pray, 
Take  all  my  guilt  away, 
Oh,  let  me  from  this  day 
Be  wholly  thine  !" 

He  put  the  memorandum  book  into  his  pocket, 
and  carried  it  there  for  two  whole  years,  little 
dreaming  that  he  was  carrying  about  with  him 
his  own  passport  to  immortality.  One  day  Dr. 
Lowell  Mason  met  him  in  the  streets  of  Bos- 
ton, and  asked  him  to  furnish  some  hymns 
for  the  volume  of  "  Spiritual  Songs,"  which 
he  (Dr.  Mason)  and  Dr.  Thomas  Hastings 
were  about  to  publish.  The  young  college 
graduate  drew  from  his  pocket  the  lines, — 

"  My  faith  looks  up  to  Thee.' ' 

Dr.  Mason  went  home,  and  catching  a  similar 
inspiration  to  that  of  the  author  of  the  lines, 
composed  for  them  that  beautiful  tune  of 
"  Olivet,"  to  which  the  hymn  is  wedded  unto 
this  day.     Dr.  Mason  met  the  author  a  few  days 


104  TROPHIES   OF   SONG. 

afterwards  and  said  to  him  prophetically,  "Mr. 
Palmer,  you  may  live  many  years  and  do  many 
good  things,  but  I  think  that  you  will  be  best 
known  to  posterity  as  the  author  of  this 
hymn."  The  prediction  is  fulfilled.  The  man 
who  sang  this  sweet  song  of  Calvary  is  still 
living,  and  has  composed  many  tender  and 
beautiful  poems  and  discourses ;  but  his  de- 
vout mind  flowered  out  in  one  matchless  lily 
whose  rich  odors  have  filled  the  Courts  of  our 
God  with  fragrance. 

How  many  a  penitent,  while  reading  or 
singing  that  hymn,  has  looked  up  to  Calvary's 
Cross  and  found  peace  in  believing!  In  how 
many  a  prayer-meeting  has  it  been  sung 
through  tears  of  holy  gratitude!  To  how 
many  a  sick  chamber  and  dying  bed  has  it 
come  like  a  strain  from  that  heavenly  land 
which  was  already  in  full  view ! 

The  poetry  of  the  hymn  is  as  perfect  as  its 
theology.  In  its  structure  it  closely  resembles 
the  "  Rock  of  Ages."  It  begins  in  penitence ; 
it  ends  in  praise.  It  begins  in  heart-broken 
sorrow,  and  concludes  with  the  most  glorious 
assurance  of  hope.     In  the  first  verse  the  sup- 


TROPHIES    OF   SONG. 


lOf 


pliant  is  represented  as  bowing  before  the  cru- 
cified Saviour,  and  looking  up  to  him,  and  to 
him  only.  He  sees  none  but  Jesus.  His  cry 
is,— 

'•'Tate  all  my  guilt  away." 

His  aspiration  is, — 

"  Oh,  let  me  from  this  day 
Be  wholly  thine." 

Before  that  cross  the  praying  soul  obtains 
strength,  and  a  pure,  warm,  and  changeless  love 
for  his  Redeemer.  He  is  filled  with  a  ;i  living 
fire."  He  is  the  new  man  in  Christ  Jesus. 
But  as  he  looks  forward,  he  foresees  a  "dark 
maze"  of  trial  before  him,  overhung  with  clouds 
of  grief  that  lower  black  and  terrible,  and 
sometimes  weep  great  showers  of  tears.  Sur- 
rounded with  these  discouraging  clouds  of  con- 
fusion  and  temptation  he  shouts  out  like  one 
lost  in  the  dark, — 

1 '  Be  thou  my  guide, 
Bid  darkness  turn  to  day, 
'Wipe  sorrow's  tear  away, 
Xor  let  me  ever  stray 
From  Thee  aside." 

Before  him   lies   still   one    more   valley   darker 


106  TKOPHIES   OF  SONG. 

than  any  passed  before.  It  is  that  vale  in  which 
end's  "  life's  transient  dream."  Through  it  rolls 
death's  cold  and  sullen  stream.  He  already  im- 
agines himself  in  the  swelling  of  Jordan.  And 
as  the  floods  go  over  him,  he  lifts  his  last  victo- 
rious voice  of  sublime  trust, — 

"Blest  Saviour!  then  in  love 
Fear  and  distrust  remove; 
Oh,  bear  me  safe  above, 
A  ransomed  soul. ' ' 

Such  is  the  grandeur  of  American  hymns.  Is 
it  not  the  graudeur  of  this  century  ?  And  if 
our  readers  wrish  to  know,  and  to  thank  its 
modest  author,  they  have  but  to  go  into  "  the 
Bible  House "  in  New  York,  and  take  by  the 
hand  our  genial  and  beloved  friend,  Dr.  Ray 
Palmer. — Rev.  T.  L.  Cuyler  in  "  Heart  Life" 


"  HAVE    YOU    ON    THE    LORD    BELIEVED  ?  " 

A  vast  fortune  was  left  in  the  hands  of  a 
minister  for  one  of  his  poor  parishioners.  Fear- 
ing that  it  might  be  squandered,  if  suddenly  be- 
stowed upon  him,  the  wise  minister  sent  him  a 
little  at  a  time  with  a  note  saying:  "  This  is 
thine:    use  it  wisely;    there  is  more  to  follow ." 


TEOPHIES   OF   BONG.  107 

This  incident,  as  told  by  Mr.  Moody,  suggested 
to  Mr.  Bliss  his  popular  hymn,  "  More  to  follow." 

"  Have  you  on  the  Lord  believed? 

Still  there's  more  to  follow; 
Of  his  grace  have  you  received? 

Still  there' s  more  to  follow ; 
Oh,  the  grace  the  Father  shows ! 

Still  there's  more  to  follow, 
Freely  he  his  grace  bestows, 

Still  there's  more  to  follow." 


"  THERE    WEBS    NINETY   AND    NOTE." 

Vaeious  statements  having  been  published 
respecting  the  origin  of  the  famous  hymn,  "  The 
Ninety  and  Nine,"  sung  by  Mr.  Sankey,  it  is 
well  to  follow  them  with  the  sweet  singer's  own 
account,  which  is  to  the  effect  that  the  hymn 
was  written  by  a  Miss  Eliza  C.  Clephane  of  Mel- 
rose, Scotland,  a  member  of  the  church  of  Scot- 
land. It  was  first  published  in  The  Family 
Treasury,  of  which  the  late  Dr.  Arnot  was  edi- 
tor. But  Mr.  Sankey  found  it  in  The  Christian 
Aye,  a  London  religious  paper. 

11  There  were  ninety  and  nine  that  safely  lay 

In  the  shelter  of  the  fold, 
But  one  was  out  on  the  hills  away, 

Far  off  from  the  gates  of  gold — 


108  TKOPHIE3   OF   SONG. 

Away  on  the  mountains  wild  and  bare, 
Away  from  the  tender  Shepherd's  care. 

" '  Lord,  thou  hast  here  thy  ninety  and  nine ; 

Are  they  not  enough  for  thee? ' 
But  the  Shepherd  made  answer:  '  'Tis  of  mine 

Has  wandered  away  from  me ; 
And  although  the  road  be  rough  and  steep 
I  go  to  the  desert  to  find  my  sheep." 


"  DEPTHS  OF  MERCY  !   CAN  THERE  BE." 

—  Charles  Wesley. 
An  actress  in  one  of  the  English  provincial  or 
country  theatres,  was  one  day  passing  through 
the  streets  of  the  town  in  which  she  resided, 
when  her  attention  was  attracted  by  the  sound 
of  voices  in  a  poor  cottage  before  her.  Curi- 
osity prompted  her  to  look  in  at  the  open  door, 
when  she  saw  a  few  people  sitting  together,  one 
of  whom,  at  the  moment  of  her  observation,  was 
giving  out  the  hymn,  which  the  others  joined  in 
singing,— 

"  Depths  of  mercy !  can  there  be 
Mercy  still  reserved  for  me?  " 

The  tune  was  sweet  and  simple ;  but  she 
heeded  it  not.  The  words  had  riveted  her  at- 
tention, and  she  stood  motionless,  until  she  was 
invited  to  enter  by  the  woman  of  the   house, 


TE0PHIES   OF   SOXG.  109 

who  had  observed  her  standing  at  the  door. 
She  remained  during  a  prayer  which  was  offered 
up  by  one  of  the  little  company  ;  and,  uncouth 
as  the  expressions  sounded,  perhaps,  to  her 
ears,  they  carried  with  them  a  conviction  of  sin- 
cerity on  the  part  of  the  person  engaged. 
She  quitted  the  cottage ;  but  the  words 
of  the  hymn  followed  her,  and  at  last  she 
resolved  to  procure  the  book  which  contained 
it.  She  did  so ;  and  the  more  she  read  it, 
the  more  decided  her  serious  impressions  be- 
came. She  attended  the  ministry  of  the 
gospel,  read  her  hitherto  neglected  and  de- 
spised Bible,  and  bowed  herself  in  humility 
and  contrition  of  heart  before  Him  whose 
mercy  she  now  felt  she  needed,  whose  sacri- 
fices are  those  of  a  broken  heart  and  a  con- 
trite spirit,  and  who  has  declared  that  with 
such  sacrifices  he  is  well  pleased. 

Her  profession  she  determined  at  once  to 
renounce,  and  for  some  time  excused  herself 
from  appearing  on  the  stage,  without,  how- 
ever, making  known  her  resolution  finally  to 
leave  it. 

The    manager    of    the    theatre    called    upon 


110  TBOPHIES   OF   SONG. 

her  one  morning  and  requested  her  to  sustain 
the  principal  character  in  a  new  play  which 
was  to  be  performed  the  next  week.  She 
had  frequently  performed  this  character  to 
general  admiration ;  but  she  now,  however, 
told  him  her  resolution  never  to  appear  as  an 
actress  again,  at  the  same  time  giving  her 
reasons.  At  first  he  attempted  to  overcome 
her  scruples  by  ridicule ;  but  this  was  una- 
vailing: he  then  represented  the  loss  he  would 
incur  by  her  refusal,  and  concluded  by  prom- 
ising that  if,  to  oblige  him,  she  would  act  on 
this  occasion,  it  would  be  the  last  request  of 
the  kind  he  would  ever  make.  Unable  to  re- 
sist his  solicitations,  she  promised  to  appear, 
and  on  the  appointed  evening  went  to  the 
theatre.  The  character  which  she  assumed 
required  her,  on  her  first  entrance,  to  sing  a 
song;  and,  when  the  curtain  drew  up,  the 
orchestra  immediately  began  the  accompani- 
ment. But  she  stood  as  if  lost  in  thought, 
and  as  one  forgetting  all  around  her  and  her 
situation.  The  music  ceased,  but  she  did  not 
sing;  and,  supposing  her  to  be  overcome  by 
embarrassment,    the    band    again    commenced. 


TEOPHIES    OF    SONG.  Ill 

A  second  time  they  paused  for  her  to  begin; 
and  still  she  did  not  open  her  lips.  A  third 
time  the  air  was  played ;  and  then,  with 
clasped  hands  and  eyes  suffused  with  tears, 
she  sang, —  not  the  words  of  the   song,  but, — 

u  Depth  of  mercy  !  can  there  be 
Mercy  still  reserved  for  me  ?  " 

It  is  almost  needless  to  add  that  the  per- 
formance was  suddenly  ended.  Many  ridi- 
culed, though  some  were  induced  from  that 
memorable  night  to  "  consider  their  ways," 
and  to  reflect  on  the  wonderful  power  of  the 
religion  which  could  influence  the  heart  and 
change  the  life  of  one  hitherto  so  vain  and 
so  evidently  pursuing  the  road  which  leadeth 

to  destruction.     The  change  in  Miss  was 

as  permanent  as  it  was  singular :  she  walked 
consistently  with  her  profession  of  religion 
for  many  years,  and  at  length  became  the 
wife  of  a  minister  of  the  gospel  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ. — Belcher ;  Bee  also  "Hedged  z/z," 
by  E.  8.  Phelps,  p.  35. 


112  TROPHIES   OF   SONG. 

"  FKEE   FROM   THE    LAW,  OH,  HAPPY    CONDITION." 

A  gentleman  in  Edinburgh  was  in  distress 
of  soul,  and  happened  to  linger  in  a  pew  after 
the  noon  meeting.  The  choir  had  remained  to 
practise,  and  began 

"Free  from  the  law,  oh,  happy  condition," 

etc.  Quickly  the  Spirit  of  God  carried  that 
truth  home  to  the  awakened  conscience,  and  he 
was  at  rest  in  the  finished  work  of  Jesus. 


"GUIDE  ME,  O  THOU  GREAT  JEHOVAH. 

—  William  Williams. 
The  power  of  this  hymn  as  a  shield  is  illus- 
trated by  an  allegory  of  Christmas  Evans. 
"  I  see  the  unclean  spirit  rising  like  a  winged 
dragon,  circling  in  the  air,  and  seeking  for 
a  resting-place.  Casting  his  fiery  glances 
toward  a  certain  neighborhood,  he  spies  a 
young  man  in  the  bloom  of  life,  and  rejoicing  in 
his  strength,  seated  on  the  front  of  his  cart, 
going  for  lime.  '  There  he  is!'  said  the  old 
dragon  ;  '  his  veins  are  full  of  blood,  and  his 
bones  of  marrow  ;   I  will  throw  into  his  bosom 


TROPHIES   OF   SOXG.  113 

sparks  from  hell ;  I  will  set  all  his  passions 
on  fire ;  I  will  lead  him  from  bad  to  worse, 
until  he  shall  perpetrate  every  sin.  I  will 
make  him  a  murderer,  and  his  soul  shall  sink, 
never  again  to  rise,  in  the  lake  of  fire.'  By  this 
time,  I  see  it  descend,  with  a  fell  swoop  toward 
the  earth ;  but,  nearer  the  youth,  the  dragon 
heard  him  sing, — 

*  Guide  me,  O  Thou  Great  Jehovah! 

Pilgrim  through  this  barren  land: 
I  am  weak,  but  thou  art  mighty ; 

Hold  me  with  thy  powerful  hand. 
Strong  Deliverer, 
Be  thou  still  my  strength  and  shield. ■ 

fcA  dry,  dry  place  this,'  says  the  old  dragon; 
and  away  he  goes.  But  I  see  him  again  hover- 
ing about  in  the  air,  and  casting  about  for  a 
suitable  resting-place.  Beneath  his  eye  there 
is  a  flowery  meadow,  watered  by  a  crystal 
stream ;  and  he  descries  among  the  kine  a 
maiden,  about  eighteen  years  of  age,  picking  up 
here  and  there  a  beautiful  flower.  '  There  she 
is  !  '  says  Apullyon,  intent  upon  her  soul  ;  4  I 
will  poison  her   thoughts;    she  shall  stray  from 


114 


TROPHIES   OF   SONG. 


the  paths  of  virtue  ;  she  shall  think  evil  thoughts 
and  become  impure ;  she  shall  become  a  lost 
creature  in  the  great  city,  and,  at  last,  I  will  cast 
her  down  from  the  precipice  into  everlasting 
burnings.'  Again  he  took  his  downward  flight, 
but  he  no  sooner  came  near  the  maiden,  than  he 
heard  her  sing  the  following  words,  with  a  voice 
that  might  have  melted  the  rocks, — 

1  Other  refuge  have  I  none ; 

Hangs  my  helpless  soul  on  thee; 
Leave,  ah !  leave  me  not  alone : 

Still  support  and  comfort  me.' 

Again  he  turned  away  defeated.  The  devil,  can 
say,  as  did  the  enemies  of  the  reformers,  '  By 
their  songs  we  are  conquered.' " 


OUPw   SHIELD   OF   SONG. 


TEOPHIES   OF   SOXG.  115 

"almost  persuaded." 

Mr.  SANKEY  was  with  Mr.  Moody  in  Phila- 
delphia, years  since,  during  the  progress  of  a  very 
interesting  meeting  at  Dr.  Reed's  church,  when 
many  were  being  awakened,  and  sang  this  beau- 
tiful Gospel  hymn,  "  Almost  Persuaded."  After 
the  close  of  the  meeting,  an  attorney,  who  had 
been  very  much  interested,  came  forward  and 
said  that  he  was  not  only  "  almost  "  but  "alto- 
gether persuaded  "  to  put  his  trust  in  the  Lord 
Jesus.  This  sweet  song  was  used  of  the  Holy 
Ghost  in  carrying  the  blessed  Gospel  of  God's 
Son  to  his  heart. 

"  Almost  persuaded  "  now  to  believe ; 
M  Almost  persuaded  "  Christ  to  receive; 

Seems  now  some  soul  to  say, 

11  Go,  Spirit,  go  thy  way, 

Some  more  convenient  day 

On  thee  I'll  call." 

"  Almost  persuaded,"  come,  come  to-day; 
"Almost  persuaded,"  turn  not  away; 

Jesus  invites  you  here, 

Angels  are  lingering  near, 

Prayers  rise  from  hearts  so  dear: 

O  wanderer,  come. 

"  Almost  persuaded,"  harvest  is  past! 
"Almost  persuaded,"  doom  comes  at  lastl 


116  TEOPHIES   OF  SONG. 

"Almost"  cannot  avail; 
"  Almost  "  is  but  to  fail! 
Sad,  sad  that  bitter  wail  — 
"Almost  —  but  lost!" 


"there  is  a  land  of  pure  delight" 

— Isaae  Watts. 

We  learn  from  an  American  writer,  who  ob- 
tained his  information  on  the  spot,  that  the 
author  of  this  familiar  hymn,  —  in  which  every 
image  is  said  to  be  scriptural,  every  suggestion 
appropriate,  and  every  association  holy,  —  wrote 
it  at  Southampton,  his  native  town,  while  sit- 
ting at  the  window  of  a  parlor  which  overlooked 
the  River  Itchen,  and  in  full  view  of  the  Isle  of 
Wight,  "  beyond  the  swelling  flood,"  represent- 
ing "  the  land  of  pure  delight," — 

"  Where  everlasting  spring  abides, 
And  never- withering  flowers." 

It  is  indeed  a  fair  and  beautiful  type  of  that 
paradise  of  which  the  poet  sung.  It  rises  from 
the  margin  of  the  flood  and  swells  into  bound- 
less prospect,  all  mantled  in  the  richest  verdure 


TROPHIES   OF   SONG.  117 

of  summer,  checkered  with  forest  growth,  and 
fruitful  fields  under  the  highest  cultivation,  and 
gardens,  and  villas,  and  every  adornment  which 
the  hand  of  man,  in  the  series  of  ages,  could 
create  on  such  susceptible  grounds.  As  the  poet 
looked  upon  the  waters  then  before  him,  he 
thought  of  the  final  passage  of  the  Christian, — 

"Death,  like  a  narrow  sea,  divides 
This  heavenly  land  from  ours.'' 

— Belcher. 


Oh,  I  do  not  know  how  we  shall  stand  the 
first  day  in  heaven.  Do  you  not  think  we  will 
break  down  in  the  song  from  over-delight?  I 
once  gave  out  in  church  the  hymn : 

"  There  is  a  land  of  pure  delight, 
Where  saints  immortal  reign," 

and  an  aged  man  standing  in  front  of  the  pulpit 
sang  heartily  the  first  verse,  and  then  he  sat 
down  weeping.  I  said  to  him  afterward,  "  Fa- 
ther Linton,  what  made  you  cry  over  that 
hymn  ?  "  He  said,  "  I  could  not  stand  it  —  the 
joys  that  are  coming." 

— T.  Deivitt  Talmage. 


118  TEOPHIES   OF  SONG. 

"ARISE,    MY     SOUL,    ARISE." 

—  Charles  Wesley. 

"Notice  the  first  trial  that  the  world  ever 
saw.  God  reads  the  charge,  '  Where  is  Abel, 
thy  brother?"  Cain  has  the  presumption  to 
deny  his  guilt:  4I  know  not.'  The  trial  pro- 
ceeds: a  'brother's  blood  is  the  terrible  accuser, 
and  when  sentence  of  banishment  has  been 
pronounced,  the  condemned  man  goes  forth, 
crying  out,  'My  guilt  is  greater  than  I  can 
bear.'     '  From  thy  face  shall  I  be  hid.'  " 

"  I  am  thinking  of  another  trial  scene,"  said 
Mizpah,  with  such  emotion  that  every  one 
eagerly  listened.  "The  judge  is  the  infinite 
God,  and  the  guilty  one  is  my  soul.  The  blood 
of  Christ  might  cry  out  against  me  from  the 
cross,  as  my  accuser,  but  it  *  speaketh  better 
things  than  that  of  Abel;'  it  speaketh  as  my 
advocate, — 

*  Five  bleeding  wounds  he  bears, 
Received  on  Calvary ; 
They  pour  effectual  prayers, 
They  strongly  plead  for  me  : 

Kote. — This  hymn  represents  every  step  of  the  prodigal's  expe- 
rience, from  the  time  when  he  says  "I  will  arise,"  to  the 
glad  moment  when  the  Father  "owns  him  for  his  child."  The 
story  in  Luke  xv.  should  be  read  in  connection  with  the  hymn. 


TROPHIES    OF   SONG.  119 

Forgive  him,  O  forgive,  they  cry, 
Nor  let  that  ransomed  sinner  die.' 

Through  this  advocate  we  may  be  saved  from 
the  terrible  cry  of  banishment,  '  From  thy  face 
shall  1  be  hid  ! '  " 


"stand  up!    stand  up  FOR  JESUS !" 

— Rev.  Geo.  Duffield,  Jr. 
This  deservedly  popular  hymn  was  composed 
to  be  sung  after  a  sermon  delivered  by  its  au- 
thor, the  Sabbath  following  the  mournfully  sud- 
den death  of  the  Rev.  Dudley  A.  Tyng,  who 
was  called  from  earth  in  1858,  and  whose  dying 
counsel  to  his  brethren  in  the  ministry  was, — 

"Stand  up  for  Jesus!" 

— Belcher. 


"come  thou  fount  of  every  blessing." 

— Robinson. 

The   author   of  this   hymn   was  at  different 

times  Calvinist,  Socinian,  Baptist,  Independent, 

Methodist   and  lastly   irreligious.      Daring  this 

last  state  of  life  his  attention  was  called  to  this 


120  TEOPHIES  OF   SONG. 

hymn,  and  he  said,  "  I  would  give  a  thousand 
worlds  to  enjoy  the  feelings  I  then  had."  In 
view  of  such  an  experience  we  may  well  pray,  as 
well  as  sing, — 

"  Let  thy  goodness,  like  a  fetter, 
Bind  my  wandering  heart  to  thee." 


"JUST    AS    I    AM,    WITHOUT    ONE    PLEA." 

A  Jew  in  New  York,  who  professed  not  to 
believe  in  either  Judaism  or  Christianity,  a 
worldly,  fashionable,  pleasure-serving,  man  was 
seized  by  a  dangerous  disease  and  told  that  he 
could  live  only  a  few  days. 

In  spite  of  professed  infidelity  he  became  anx- 
ious about  the  future.  Minister  after  minister 
called  upon  him,  talked  and  prayed,  but  in  vain. 
At  length  a  Christian  business  man  came  in,  and 
during  his  call  sang, — 

"  Just  as  I  am  without  one  plea," 

The  Jew  exclaimed,  "  Do  you  really  mean 
that  for  me?  You  know  what  I  have  been  — 
worldly,  skeptical,  pleasure-loving.  Be  very 
sure,  now.     Do  you  really  mean  that  for  me  ?  " 


TROPHIES   OF   SOXG.  1.21 

"Yes,  I  do  just  that."  With  much  inward 
struggle  the  Jew  was  able  to  make  the  words  of 
the  hymn  his  own  and  say  to  Christ, — 

"  Just  as  I  am,  I  come,  I  come." 

A  few  days  later  he  died  trusting  in  Him, — 

"  Whose  love  unknown 

Had  broken  every  barrier  down." 


A  little  boy  came  to  one  of  our  city  mission- 
aries, and  holding  out  a  dirty  and  well-worn  bit 
of  printed  paper,  said, — 

"  Please,  sir,  father  sent  me  to  get  a  clean  pa- 
per like  that." 

Taking  it  from  his  hand,  the  missionary  un- 
folded it,  and  found  it  was  a  page  containing 
that  beautiful  hymn  of  which  the  first  stanza  is 
as  follows : 

''Just  as  I  am,  without  one  plea 
But  that  thy  blood  was  shed  for  me, 
And  that  thou  biddst  me  come  to  thee, 
O  Lamb  of  God,  I  come! " 

The  missionary  looked  down  with  interest  into 
the  face  earnestly  upturned  to  him,  and  asked 
the  little  boy  where  he  got  it,  and  why  he  wanted 
a  clean  one. 


122  TROPHIES   OF   SONG. 

"  We  found  it,  sir,"  said  he,  "  in  sister's  pocket 
after  she  died ;  and  she  used  to  sing  it  all  the 
time  when  she  was  sick,  and  loved  it  so  much 
that  father  wanted  to  get  a  clean  one  to  put  in 
a  frame  to  hang  it  up.  Wont  you  give  us  a 
clean  one,  sir?  " 

This  little  page,  with  a  single  hymn  on  it,  had 
been  cast  upon  the  air,  like  a  fallen  leaf,  by 
Christian  hands,  humbly  hoping  to  do  some 
possible  good.  In  some  little  mission  Sunday- 
school,  probably,  this  poor  girl  had  thoughtlessly 
received  it,  afterwards  to  find  in  it,  we  hope,  the 
Gospel  of  her  salvation.  Could  she,  in  any  prob- 
ability, have  goue  down  into  death,  sweetly  sing- 
ing that  hymn  of  penitence  and  faith  in  Jesus  to 
her  latest  breath,  without  the  saving  knowledge 
of  him,  which  the  Holy  Spirit  imparts  ? 


"  PRAISE    GOD   FROM   WHOM  ALL  BLESSINGS   FLOW. 

Many  have  heard  from  Chaplain  McCabe's 
own  fire-touched  lips,  how  this  grand  old 
doxology,  that  has  doubtless  been  on  more 
lips  than  any  other  uninspired  production, 
was    sung    by   the    starving   "  boys    in   blue " 


TROPHIES   OF   SOXG.  123 

that  were  incarcerated  in  Libby  Prison.  Day 
after  day  they  saw  comrades  passing  away, 
and  their  numbers  increased  by  fresh,  living 
recruits  for  the  grave.  One  night  about  ten 
o'clock,  through  the  stillness  and  the  darkness, 
they  heard  the  tramp  of  coming  feet,  that 
soon  stopped  before  the  prison  door  until 
arrangements  could  be  made  inside.  In  the 
company  was  a  young  Baptist  minister,  whose 
heart  almost  fainted  as  he  looked  on  those 
cold  walls  and  thought  of  the  suffering  inside. 
Tired  and  weary  he  sat  down,  put  his  face 
in  his  hands  and  wept.  Just  then  a  lone  voice 
of  deep,  sweet  pathos,  sung  out  from  an 
upper  window, — 

"  Praise  God  from  whom  all  blessings  flow  ;  " 

and  a  dozen  manly  voices  joined  in  the  second 
line, — 

"  Praise  Him  all  creatures  here  below  ; " 

and  then  by  the  time  the  third  was  reached, 
more  than  a  score  of  hearts  were  full,  and 
these   joined   to  send   the    words  on  high, — 

1 '  Praise  Him  above  ye  heavenly  host  ; ' ' 

and   by    this   time    the    prison    was    all    alive, 


124  TROPHIES   OF   SONG, 

and  seemed  to  quiver  with  the  sacred  song, 
as  from  every  room  and  cell  those  brave  men 
sang,— 

"Praise  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost." 

As  the  song  died  out  on  the  still  night  that 
enveloped  in  darkness  the  doomed  city  of  Rich- 
mond, the  young  man  arose  and  happily  said, — 

"Prisons  would  palaces  prove, 

If  Jesus  would  dwell  with  me  there." 


In  the  great  cotton  famine  in  England,  which 
desolated  Lancashire  for  long  and  weary 
months,  the  conduct  of  the  operatives  was 
the  admiration  of  the  world.  There  were 
no  riots  and  no  excess  of  crimes.  The  people, 
men  and  women,  went  into  the  Sunday-school 
houses  and  prayed.  They  had  been  taught 
to  do  so,  and  they  were  upheld  in  the  time 
of  trial  by  the  truths  they  had  learned.  When 
the  first  wagon  load  of  cotton  arrived,  the 
people  unhooked  the  horses  and  drew  it  them- 
selves, and  surrounding  it  began  to  sing  —  what 
do  you  think  they  sang  ?  They  sang  the  grand 
old  doxology,  while  the  tears  came  flowing 
down  their  cheeks- 


CONSECRATED  VOICES. 

A  young  Scottish  lady  of  rank,  whose  heart 
the  Lord  had  touched  and  opened,  longed  to 
draw  others  within  the  circle  of  a  Saviour's 
love ;  but  among  the  gay  and  proud  who  were 
her  companions,  the  merry  jest,  the  gay  laugh, 
and  the  light  and  frivolous  manner  of  her 
associates,  hindered  every  effort,  and  seemed 
to  hedge  her  way  before  her  on  every  hand. 
Discouraged  and  sad,  oppressed  with  the  bur- 
den of  the  Lord,  and  knowing  not  how  to 
attain  the  desire  of  her  heart,  she  carried  the 
matter  to  God  in  prayer,  and,  as  was  her 
custom,  closed  the  day  with  a  song  of  praise. 
Shortly  after  she  had  finished  her  song,  her 
serving  maid  entered  the  room  in  tears,  and 
besought  her  to  sing  again  the  sacred  words, 
and  in  broken  accents  told  how  those  strains 
had  touched  and  melted  her  heart. 

"No  words  of  entreaty,"  said  she,  "could 
ever  affect  my  soul  as  those  plaintive  songs 
to  which  for  weeks  I  had  listened,  as  my 
mistress  poured  out  in  them  her  love  for  the 
Redeemer,  and  her  faith  and  trust  in  him." 

125 


126  TROPHIES   OF   SONG. 

Sleep  fled  that  night  from  the  eyes  of  the 
young  disciple,  in  the  new  joy  and  thank- 
fulness that  filled  her  heart  at  the  discovery 
of  the  blessing  God  had  granted  upon  the  songs 
she  had  sung.  "  That  talent,"  she  said,  "  I 
have  consecrated  to  God.  I  will  sing  for  him ; 
and  if  through  this  means  I  may  touch  souls, 
my  happiness  shall  be  complete." 

From  this  time,  she  devoted  herself  to  the 
study  and  expression  of  sacred  song ;  and 
while  she  touched  with  skill  the  various  in- 
struments on  which  she  had  learned  to  play, 
her  voice  of  wondrous  power  would  entrance 
and  thrill  her  hearers.  It  was  the  outgushing 
of  her  joyous  heart ;  the  thanksgiving  of  a 
redeemed  soul;  her  testimony,  poured  upon 
careless  ears,  concerning  the  wondrous  love 
of  him  who  came  to  save  our  race ;  who  cares 
for  all  his  creatures ;  who  gathered  little  chil- 
dren to  his  arms,  and  whose  blessing  crowns 
with  joy  the  saint  of  God,  even  down  to  hoary 
hairs.  Many  were  charmed  and  cheered  with 
her  songs.  The  sweet  story  of  old,  thus  ren- 
dered, seemed  to  possess  new  power  to  melt 
the   careless  heart.     In  cottages  and  halls,   in 


TROPHIES    OF    BONO.  127 

the  drawincr-room  of  wealth  and  the  homes 
of  humble  life,  she  sung  her  songs  for  Jesus, 
while  with  lifted  heart  she  sought  his  bless- 
in£  on  the  offering ;  and  ere  many  months 
had  passed  away,  she  had  the  delight  of  know- 
ing that  numbers  of  those  around  her  had, 
through  the  songs  she  sang,  been  led  to  taste 
the  joy  which  she  tasted,  being  brought  up 
out  of  the  horrible  pit  and  miry  clay,  and 
placed  upon  the  Living  Rock,  and  having  a 
new  song  put  in  their  mouths. 


The  choir  of  a  church  in  Xew  York  city 
have  truly  consecrated  their  gift  of  song  to 
the  service  of  Christ.  Not  content  with  lead- 
ing the  praise  of  the  great  congregation,  they 
are  earnest  soncr-workers  in  the  Sundav-school. 
And  they  do  not  stop  here.  An  aged  blind 
woman  will  tell  you  how  often  they  make  her 
lonely  home  happy,  bringing  to  her  visions 
and  dreams  of  the  beautiful  land.  Xo  wonder 
the  dear  old  soul,  in  humble,  but  heartfelt  ap- 
preciation, breaks  in  upon  the  strains  which 
they  sing,  with  her  tender,  "  Bless  the  Lord!*' 
If  you  follow  these  song  messengers  after  they 


128  TEOPHIES   OF   SONG. 

have  left  the  blind  Christian,  you  shall  find  them 
among  the  sick  and  dying.  The  sufferer  forgets 
his  pain,  in  listening  to  their  melodies  ;  and  the 
spirit  that  is  going  home,  floats  peacefully  away 
to  its  rest  in  heaven. 

Church  and  Sunday-school  singers  everywhere 
might  well  ponder  the  blessed  example  of  this 
choir,  and  join  them  in  making  the  waste  places 
around  them  vocal  with  "  songs  of  the  beauti- 
ful." 


APPENDIX. 

BIOGRAPHICAL   SKETCH    OF 
MR.  IRA  D.  SANKEY. 

Mb.  Sa^tkey  was  born  in  Edinburgh,  Pa.,  in 
the  year  1840.  His  father  was  English,  and  his 
mother  Scotch-Irish.  The  early  influences  that 
surrounded  his  life  were  those  of  a  Christian 
home.  A  Scotch  neighbor  named  Frazer  intro- 
duced him  to  the  Sunday-school  at  an  early  age, 
and  by  this  and  other  acts  of  Christian  friend- 
ship greatly  endeared  himself  to  the  future  evan- 
gelist, who  often  makes  grateful  mention  of  his 
kindness,  and  his  praying  as  the  means  of  his 
conversion.  At  seventeen  Mr.  Sankey  joined 
the  Methodist  Episcopal  church,  of  which  he  is 
still  a  member. 

When  only  twenty  he  was  elected  superinten- 
dent in  the  Sunday-school  and  while  filling  this 

129 


130  APPENDIX. 

position  began  to  sing  sacred  solos  and  to  use 
sacred  songs  to  express  and  impress  the  Gospel. 
A  few  years  later  be  was  appointed  a  class- 
leader,  and  in  that  position  urged  upon  bis  class 
the  importance  of  using  God's  "  testimonies  "  in 
their  testimonies,  quoting  much  from  the  Bible. 

During  the  war  he  served  his  country  as  a  sol- 
dier, and  after  it  was  over,  became  President  of 
the  Young  Men's  Christian  Association  at  New- 
castle, Pa.,  which  was  then  his  home.  While 
filling  this  position  Mr.  Moody  met  him  at  a 
Young  Men's  Christian  Association  Convention, 
and,  being  greatly  impressed  by  his  way  of  sing- 
ing sacred  songs,  earnestly  invited  him  to  come 
to  Chicago  to  "  sing  the  Gospel  "  there  as  an 
evangelistic  work.  After  prayerful  considera- 
tion of  the  matter  Mr.  Sankey  gave  up  his  busi- 
ness and  entered  upon  the  evangelistic  labors  in 
which  he  has  been  so  useful  since  that  time. 

Not  long  after  Mr.  Sankey  began  his  work  in 
Chicago,  Mr.  Moody's  church  with  which  he  was 
laboring,  was  burned.  The  people,  however, 
were  held  together  by  Mr.  Sankey's  earnest 
efforts  joined  with  those  of  Mr.  Moody. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  Mr.  Sankey  received 


APPENDIX.  131 

his  greatest  incentive  to  his  Christian  work 
through  the  conversion  of  a  child  by  the  influ- 
ence of  the  song, — 

"  Jesus  loves  even  me." 

at  one  of  his  singing  meetings  in  the  temporary 
tabernacle.  The  incident  is  given  in  another 
place  among  those  connected  with  the  song 
above  mentioned. 

Soon  after  the  fire  Mr.  Sankey  went  with  Mr. 
Moody  to  England  for  evangelistic  work.  The 
blessing  which  attended  Mr.  Sankey's  singing  is 
sufficiently  noted  in  the  introductory  letter  to 
this  volume  by  Mr.  Pentecost,  who  was  himself 
amid  the  scenes  he  describes.  The  Daily  Edin- 
burgh Review  gave  the  following  editorial  in  re- 
gard to  the  power  of  sacred  song  as  Mr.  Sankey 
used  it  in  Scotland  : 

u  The  power  of  music  over  the  mind  and  soul 
has  been  described  and  illustrated  with  encyclo- 
paedic fullness.  Fietcher,  of  Saltoun,  put  it  in  a 
forcible  aphorism  wdiich  will  never  be  forgotten: 
'Let  me  make  the  songs  of  a  country,  and  let 
who  will  make  the  laws.'  Wharton  boasted  that 
lie  had  overturned  an  ancient  dynasty  by  a  song 
—  Lhe  famous  Lillibulero.      Whitefield  protested 


132  APPENDIX. 

that  it  was  not  to  be  borne  that  the  devil  should 
have  all  the  best  tunes.  Luther  promoted  the 
Reformation  as  much  by  his  favorite  psalms  and 
hymns  as  by  his  preaching;  and  our  own  Scot- 
tish forefathers  made  a  notable,  if  not  altogether 
successful  attempt  to  wean  the  population  from 
the  ribald  ballads  of  the  sixteenth  century,  by 
substituting  '  gude  and  godly  ballats,'  to  the 
same  melodies,  and,  as  far  as  might  be,  adopting 
the  same  words. 

"  Yet  we  have  hardly  wakened  up  in  Scotland 
to  a  sense  of  the  importance  of  sacred  music, 
notwithstanding  all  the  efforts  made  during  the 
past  twenty  or  thirty  years.  In  a  good  many 
Presbyterian  congregations  the  psalmody  is  still 
treated  as  a  bit  of  convenient  padding  to  be  laid 
between  the  more  important  exercises  of  wor- 
ship. The  minister  gives  out  four  verses,  some- 
times only  three,  and  sometimes  only  two  ;  and 
by  getting  up  to  preach  or  to  pray,  or  by  looking 
up  his  text  or  his  MSS  during  the  singing,  shows 
that  he  has  not  got  his  mind  in  that  part  of  the 
proceedings.  And  should  the  sermon  be  of  more 
than  the  average  duration,  an  attempt  is  made 
to  recover  the  lost  time  by  shortening  the  sing- 


APPENDIX.  133 

ing.  A113*  prejudice  there  may  be  against  ■  sing- 
ing the  Gospel'  will  thaw  and  resolve  itself  into 
a  pleasant  dew  as  soon  as  he  opens  his  mouth. 

M  Why  should  there  be  any  prejudice  ?  For 
generations  most  of  the  Highland  ministers,  and 
some  of  the  Lowland  ministers,  too,  have  sung 
the  Gospel  —  sung  their  sermons,  aye,  and  sung 
their  prayers,  too.  The  only  difference  is  that 
they  sing  very  badly,  and  Mr.  Sankey  very  beau- 
tiful]}'. He  accompanied  himself  on  the  '  Amer- 
ican Organ,'  it  is. true,  and  some  of  us  who  be- 
long to  the  old  school  can't  swallow  the  '  kist  of 
w hustles  '  yet.  It  may  help  us  over  this  stum- 
bling-block if  we  consider  that  with  the  finest 
voice  and  ear  in  the  world  nobody  could  main- 
tain the  proper  pitch  of  a  melody,  singing  so  lung 
as  Mr.  Sankey  does.  And  then  the  American 
Organ  is  '  only  a  little  one.'  When  a  deputation 
from  the  session  waited  on  Ralph  Erskiue,  to  re- 
monstrate with  him  on  the  enormity  of  fiddling, 
he  gave  them  a  beautiful  tune  on  the  violincello, 
and  they  were  so  charmed  that  they  returned  to 
their  constituents  with  the  report  that  it  was  all 
right  —  'it  wasna'  the  wee  siufu'  fiddle  '  that 
their  minister  operated  upon,  but  a  grand  instru- 


134 


APPENDIX. 


ment,  full  of  grave  sweet  melody.  I'm  afraid 
some  good,  true  blue  Presbyterians  will  be 
excusing  Mr.  Sankey's  organ,  and  themselves 
for  listening  to  it,  by  some  such  plea  as 
that." 

After  "  singing  the  Gospel "  in  many  of  the 
largest  cities  of  England,  Scotland  and  Ireland, 
Mr.  Sankey  has  returned  to  our  own  country 
again,  and  has  achieved  "  song  victories  "  on  our 
own  shores  equal  to  those  which  God  awarded  to 
him  in  other  lands.  We  shall  close  this  brief 
sketch  of  a  career  which  we  trust  will  long  con- 
tinue, by  quoting  an  editorial  from  '4  The  Inter- 
Ocean  "  of  Chicago  in  regard  to  "  Mr.  Sankey's 
Musical  Oratory  " : 

"  People  are  not  agreed  as  to  what  rank  Mr. 
Sankey  shall  take  as  a  singer,  but  they  are 
agreed  as  to  the  point  that  he  is  just  the  man  to 
join  Mr.  Moody  in  his  great  work.  The  methods 
of  the  two  men  are  dissimilar,  and  they  appear 
on  the  platform  in  marked  contrast.  Mr.  Moody 
seizes  a  crowd  at  any  moment,  whether  it  be 
noisy  or  quiet,  and  asserts  his  authority. 

"  lie  never  stands  on  ceremony,  but  grapples 
with  the  giant  at  once,  and  with  a  supreme  cou- 


APPENDIX.  135 

sciousness  that  he  will  not  lose  his  grip  proceeds 
to  the  business  in  hand.  Mr.  Sankey,  on  the 
other  hand,  approaches  a  great  crowd  with  al- 
most womanly  gentleness.  He  touches  the  keys 
of  the  organ  with  soft  reverence.  He  waits  till 
the  Tabernacle  is  so  quiet  that  you  can  hear  a 
pin  drop;  he  leans  forward  to  say  a  few  words 
in  an  appealing,  musical  tone,  as  though  he 
wanted  to  be  sure  that  the  people  were  all  in  re- 
sponsive mood,  and  then  he  takes  possession  and 
carries  the  crowd  with  him.  His  singing  is  a 
sort  of  musical  oratory,  and  it  affects  or  influen- 
ces people  as  an  oratorical  performance  rather 
than  a  musical  one.  That  is  to  say,  Mr.  Sankey 
touches  the  same  chords,  arouses  the  same  feel- 
ings, appeals  to  the  same  emotions  that  would 
be  struck  or  aroused  by  a  persuasive  speaker, 
and  he  sways  an  audience  precisely  as  it  would 
be  surged  by  a  man  of  rare  eloquence. 

"  If  there  be  arts  in  his  manner,  they  are  of 
the  orator,  rather  than  of  the  musician.  II  is 
sentences  come  to  the  audience  clean  cut  and 
ringing  with  melody.  The  sentiment  lives  in 
the  lines  and  in  the  tone  as  well  as  in  the  music. 
He  sings  as  one  in  earnest,  as  one  whose  heart  is 


136  APPENDIX. 

full  of  the  sentiment  of  his  song,  as  one  anxious 
to  express  all  the  tenderest  and  liveliest  feelings 
of  the  human  heart. 

"  Mr.  Moody  steps  on  the  platform  like  a 
blacksmith  approaching  his  forge.  He  makes  no 
concessions  to  circumstances,  and  is  not  influ- 
enced by  unfavorable  conditions. 

"  Mr.  Sankey,  on  the  contrary,  commences 
work  when  the  doors  are  closed.  He  under- 
stands his  mission  as  well  as  Mr.  Moody  under- 
stands his,  and  so  works  with  the  same  great  re- 
sults. He  has  studied  men  and  women  to  good 
purpose,  and  in  choice  of  subject,  in  manner  of 
introduction,  and  style  of  execution  he  shows 
the  results  of  this  study.  Musicians  may  not  be 
charmed ;  he  is  not  singing  so  much  for  them 
as  for  the  men  and  women  with  troubled  hearts; 
for  men  and  women  perplexed  and  tired ;  for 
men  and  women  who  have  hearts  and  heart- 
aches, as  well  as  ears.  He  sings  now  for  the 
mother,  now  for  the  father,  and  again  for  all. 
He  never  makes  a  mistake.  He  never  promises 
more  than  he  accomplishes.  He  never  ventures 
to  approach  a  crowd  until  it  is  in  the  right 
mood,  and  he  never  leaves  it  until  eveiy  heart  is 


APPENDIX.  137 

throbbing  responsively.  In  studying  Mr.  Moody 
we  are  driven  forward  to  the  contemplation  of 
the  results  of  his  work.  In  studying  Mr.  San- 
key,  we  linger  over  the  sweet  voice,  the  trem- 
bling tones,  the  tender  words.  Mr.  Moody 
startles  us  and  arouses  us,  while  Mr.  Sankey 
soothes  and  comforts.  Mr.  Moody,  earnest  as 
he  is,  succeeds  without  the  grace  of  voice  and 
manner.  Mr.  Sankey,  earnest  as  he  is,  succeeds 
because  of  grace  in  voice  and  manner.  He  is 
well  fitted  to  be  Mr.  Moody's  companion,  and 
those  who  hear  him  do  not  wonder  at  his  con- 
tinued success  in  this  peculiar  field." 


SAFE  WITH  THE  MASTER. 

"Where  is  now  our  loved  one? 

Where,  O  where? 
Not  where  the  living  weary, 
Not  where  the  dying  moan ; 
Not  where  the  day  is  dreary, 
Not  where  the  night  is  lone. 
Not  in  a  home  of  weeping, 
Not  in  a  darkene4  room, 
Not  in  a  graveyard  sleeping 
Not  in  a  silent  tomh. 

"Where  is  now  our  loved  one  ? 

"Where,  O  where  ? 
Safe  in  a  land  immortal, 
Safe  in  a  country  rare, 
Safe  in  a  heavenly  portal 
Safe  in  a  mansion  fair. 
Safe  with  the  joys  supernal, 
Safe  with  the  blest  to  bow, 
Safe  with  the  Love  Eternal, 
Safe  with  the  Master  now. 

By  P.  P.  Bliss. 

From  "The  Prize."     Copyrighted. 


138 


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Page  139 


BIOGRAPHICAL   SKETCH   OF 
P.  P.  BLISS. 


BY.   MRS.  W,  F.    CRAFTS. 
[Sara  y.  Timanus.] 

Fkiday,  Dec.  29,  1876,  was  the  last  day  that 
dawned  upon  the  earthly  life  of  "  The  sweet 
singer  of  Israel,''  P.  P.  Bliss.  On  the  day  pre- 
vious Mr.  Bliss  and  his  wife  left  their  moth- 
er's home,  Rome,  Pa.,  where  thejr  had  been  mak- 
ing a  Christmas  visit,  and  started  for  Chicago, 
when  Mr.  Bliss  and  Major  D.  W.  Whittle  were 
to  continue,  in  the  great  Tabernacle,  the  evan- 
gelistic work  begun  by  Moody  and  Sankey.  As 
he  rode  he  busied  himself  with  Bible  and  paper, 
composing  a  new  song  which  perished  with  him. 

When  within  about  twelve  hours  ride  of  Chi- 
cago, the  train  on  which  the}'  were  traveling 
was  wrecked  by  the  fearful  "Ashtabula  disas- 
ter," words  that  will  ring  like  a  funeral  knell  in 
many  lives  for  years  to   come.     By  the  giving 

139 


140  APPENDIX. 

way  of  the  bridge  which  spanned  the  Ashtabula 
River  the  whole  train  was  precipicated  into  the 
ice-bound  stream  below.  The  cars  were  soon 
in  flames,  and  the  devastating  elements  of  fire 
and  water,  adding  their  fury  to  the  wild  storm 
that  was  raging  at  the  time,  rendered  the  scene 
one  of  untold  horror.  The  only  circumstance 
connected  with  the  death  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bliss 
that  can  be  ascertained  is  that  Mr.  Bliss,  after 
escaping  out  of  a  window  of  a  car  was  burned  to 
death  on  going  back  to  rescue  his  wife. 

At  the  meeting  held  in  memory  of  Mr.  Bliss 
in  Chicago  on  the  following  Sunday,  the  fact 
was  recalled  with  a  sad  interest  that  the  last 
time  he  had  sung  in  the  Moody  and  Sankey 
meetings  he  had  said,  "  I  don't  know  as  I  shall 
ever  sing  here  again,  but  I  want  to  sing  this  as 
the  language  of  my  heart,"  and  then  had  sung 
that  song  of  his  : 

"  I  know  not  the  hour  my  Lord  will  come 

To  take  me  away  to  his  own  dear  home, 

But  I  know  that  his  presence  will  lighten  the  gloom, 

And  that  will  be  glory  for  me." 

At  the  time  of  his  death  Mr.  Bliss  was  in  the 


APPENDIX.  141 

very  prime  and  vigor  of  manhood,  being  thirty- 
eight  years  of  age. 

His  boyhood  and  early  manhood  were  spent  in 
northwest  Pennsylvania. 

In  the  year  1864,  Mr.  George  F.  Root  of  Chi- 
cago, the  well-known  music  publisher,  learning 
of  his  musical  ability  —  both  as  a  composer  and 
leader,  en^a^ed  his  services.  Mr.  Bliss  then  re- 
moved  to  Chicago,  and  for  nearly  ten  years  went 
out  into  different  parts  of  the  West  to  conduct 
Normal  Musical  Institutes.  He  was  also  en- 
gaged during  this  time  in  composing  Sunday- 
school  music,  the  first  of  which  appeared  in  1870 
in  a  book  edited  and  published  by  Mr.  George 
F.  Root,  entitled,  "  The  Prize." 

These  were  days  of  beginnings  and  of  trials  in 
the  life  of  Mr.  Bliss  and  his  wife.  Yet  they 
styled  their  humble  home  "  The  Kot  o'  Kon- 
tent  "  and  gave  a  cheery  welcome  to  the  friends 
who  visited  them. 

In  1871  Mr.  Bliss'  first  book,  "The  Charm," 
appeared  and  at  once  gave  him  a  place  among 
the  favorite  composers  of  Sunday-school  music. 
About  this  time  he  was  elected  to  the  position 
of  chorister  in  the  First  Congregational  Church 


142  APPENDIX. 

of  Chicago  (Rev.  Dr.  Goodwin's),  of  which  he 
had  become  a  member,  on  coming  to  Chicago, 
having  previously  been  a  Methodist.  He  was 
also  chosen  superintendent  of  the  large  Sunday- 
school  of  that  church,  very  many  of  whose  mem- 
bers were  led  to  Christ  by  his  influence.  Fre- 
quent demands  were  now  made  upon  him  to  sing 
at  dedications,  anniversaries  and  Sunday-school 
gatherings.  On  these  occasions  he  gave  his  ser- 
vices whenever  time  would  permit.  His  Nor- 
mal Musical  work  still  continued  and  in  1872  he 
published  a  collection  of  new  songs,  duets,  trios 
and  quartets,  entitled  "  The  Song  Tree."  The 
design  of  the  book  is  beautifully  expressed  in  the 
following  acrostic  preface  : 

"  Sing  away  dreariness, 

Tree  of  my  love ; 
Oh,  and  to  weariness 

Rest  may'st  thou  prove : 
Nohly  endeaver  the 

Erring  to  win 
Guarding  forever  from 

Evil  and  sin.,, 

Subsequently  appeared  "  Sunshine,"  a  book  for 
Sunday-schools  and  "  The  Joy,"  for  classes, 
choirs  and  conventions. 


APPENDIX.  143 

Mr.  Bliss  at  length  resigned  his  position  as 
chorister  and  his  work  as  a  musical  leader,  with 
much  pecuniary  sacrifice,  in  order  to  give  him- 
self wholly  to  evangelistic  work.  In  a  letter  to 
a  friend  dated  "  May  13,  1874,"  when  he  was 
just  starting  to  a  Musical  Institute,  he  says : 

M  Do  you  know  Brother  Moody,  Whittle,  and 
others  are  after  me  to  sing  Gospel  hymns  in 
evangelistic  work.  Shall  I?  Where  can  I  ac- 
complish most  ?  Pray  that  I  may  make  no  mis- 
take. " 

He  decided  to  go  into  this  work,  and  two 
months  later  wrote  to  the  same  friend  : 

"  Major  Whittle  and  I  are  holding  protracted 
meetings.  God  is  wonderfully  using  us  in  every 
way.  Help  us  to  praise  him  for  it.  I  am  pre- 
paring a  book  of  "  Gospel  Songs  "  for  our  special 
use,  and  would  be  right  glad  to  have  you  send  a 
list  of  hymns  and  tunes  which  have  been  most 
successful  in  your  experience.  And  above  all, 
pray  for  the  book.  All  the  good  in  the  book 
must  come  from  God." 

This  book,  "  Gospel  Songs,"  was  published  in 
1874  with  the  following  acrostic  preface  which 
truly  represents  its  deep  spiritual  purpose  : 


144  APPENDIX. 

"  God  so  loved  the  world  that  he  gave  his 
Only  begotten 
Son,  that  whosoever  believeth  on  him  should 

not 
Perish,  but  have 
Everlasting 
Life." 

"Serve  the  Lord  with  gladness;    come  before 
his  presence  with  thanksgiving. 

O  Lord,  open  thou  my  lips  and  my  mouth  shall 
show  forth  thy  praise. 

Not  unto  us,  O  Lord,  not  unto  us,  but  unto 
thy  name,  give  glory. 

Great  is  the  Lord,  and  greatly  to  be  praised. 
Sing  unto  the  Lord,  bless  his  name,  show  forth 
his  salvation  from  day  to  day. 

Since  July  1874  Mr.  Bliss  has  been  engaged 
earnestly  and  almost  constantly  in  evangelistic 
work  in  connection  with  Major  Whittle.  The 
following  slip  which  has  sometimes  been  distrib- 
uted as  an  invitation  to  their  meetings  shows 
how  they  shared  the  work: 


APPENDIX.  14.3 

WEEK  OF  PRAYER. 


MAJOR   WHITTLE 

-will  ifirie-^ch  the  g-osifeii, 

ANT) 

P.  P.  BLISS 

W-LLJi    SUSTG-    TIHIE    GOSPEL, 

this    Wednesday  Evenings   Jan.  6th, 
AT  UNION  PARK  CONGREGATIONAL   CHURCH, 

ASHLAOT  AVENUE,  OPPOSITE  PARK. 
SEATS  FREE.  ALL   INVITED. 

FURTHER   APPOINTMENT. 

"  He  hath  appointed  a  day  in  the  which  He  will 
judge  the  world  in  righteousness  by  that  Man  (  Jesus 
Christ )  whom  He  hath  ordained ;  whereof  He  hath 
given  assurance  unto  all  men  in  that  He  hath  raised 
Him  from  the  dead." — Acts.  17:  31. 


FrU?idy  are  you  ready  to  meet  this  appointment  ?     There  can 
be  no  postponement. 


146  APPENDIX. 

Mr.  Bliss  held  these  evangelistic  meetings  in 
company  with  Major  Whittle,  at  Mobile,  At- 
lanta, Nashville,  Louisville,  Chicago,  Peoria, 
Kalamazoo,  Jackson,  and  many  other  places,  and 
always  with  great  success. 

Mr.  Bliss  sang  as  earnest  ministers  preach,  not 
for  artistic  effects  but  to  express  and  impress  the 
Gospel.  In  his  singing  he  was  putting  in  prac- 
tice what  he  so  often  exhorted  upon  others  in  his 
song : 

"  Let  the  lower  lights  be  burning, 

Send  a  gleam  across  the  wave ; 
Some  poor  fainting,  struggling  seaman 

You  may  rescue,  you  may  save," 

His  songs  in  these  "  Gospel  meetings  "  were 
frequently  prefaced  with  a  short  and  earnest 
prayer  by  himself  or  by  the  reading  or  repeating 
of  Scripture  passages  in  the  audience. 

The  following  brief  remarks,  made  by  Mr. 
Bliss  at  "  The  Sunday-school  Parliament,"  on 
Wellesley  Island  in  the  St.  Lawrence  River,  dur- 
ing the  summer  of  1876,  show  his  high  estimate 
of  sacred  music : 

"  That  which  ought  to  have  the  greatest  em- 
phasis just  now  in  regard  to  sacred  music  is  the 


APPENDIX.  147 

need  of  greater  reverence.  While  a  song  is  be- 
ing sung,  people  will  pass  up  a  church  aisle  or  a 
Sunday-school  aisle,  whisper  to  each  other,  move 
about  the  room,  distribute  or  collect  library 
books,  put  on  overcoats,  or  do  a  score  of  other 
things  that  one  ivould  never  think  of  doing  daring 
any  other  kind  of  prayer.  When  we  are  offering 
praise  or  prayer  to  God  in  metre,  as  much  as  if 
we  were  doing  it  upon  our  knees,  a  reverence  of 
manner  and  spirit  should  accompany  it.  Another 
thing  to  be  enforced  in  connection  with  sincr- 
ing  is  a  greater  thoughtfulness  in  regard  to  the 
meaning  of  what  we  sing.  Are  the  words  prayer  ? 
Or  praise  ?  Let  appropriate  thought  as  well  as 
appropriate  melody  accompany  the  words." 

Mr.  Bliss  is  known  even  more  widely  as  a 
composer  of  sacred  song  than  as  a  singer,  being 
the  author  of  both  words  and  music  of  the  fol- 
lowing popular  songs:  "  Jesus  loves  even  me,*' 
M  Almost  persuaded,"  «  Hold  the  fort,"  "  Pull 
for  the  shore,"  "  What  shall  the  harvest  be  ?  " 
"More  to  follow,"  "Hallelujah,  'tis  done," 
"  Free  from  the  law,"  "  Let  the  lower  lights  be 
burning,"  "  Whosoever  heareth,"  and  M  Only  an 
armor-bearer." 


148  APPENDIX. 

In  all  these  and  his  other  hymns  Mr.  Bliss 
showed  a  remarkable  skill  in  versifying  evangel- 
ical doctrine  in  the  very  phrases  of  Scripture. 

Mr.  Bliss  composed  with  the  greatest  ease  and 
his  music  was  mostly  bright  and  cheerful.  When 
Haydn  was  asked,  "  why  his  music  was  so  glad- 
some," he  replied,  "  I  can't  make  any  other.  I 
write  as  I  feel.  When  I  think  of  God  my  heart 
is  so  full  of  joy  that  the  words  dance  and  leap 
from  my  pen."  The  same  might  he  said  of  Mr. 
Bliss  and  his  music,  for  he  was  in  perfect  har- 
mony with  God  and  his  work. 

The  titles  of  his  books  "  Sunshine  "  and  "  Joy" 
epitomize  the  author  as  a  Christian  and  a  com- 
poser. Indeed  his  own  name,  "  Bliss  "  would 
fulfill  George  MacDonald's  idea  of  a  true  name 
when  he  says  : 

"  A  name  of  the  ordinary  kind  in  this  world 
has  nothing  essential  in  it.  It  is  but  a  label  by 
which  a  man  and  a  scrap  of  history  may  be 
known  from  another  man  and  his  scrap  of  his- 
tory. The  true  name  is  one  which  expresses 
the  character,  the  nature,  the  being,  the  meaning 
of  the  person  who  bears  it.  To  whom  is  this 
name  given  ?     4  To  him  that  overcometh. 


•>   5? 


APPENDIX.  149 

No  element  of  pride  entered  into  Mr.  Bliss' 
estimate  of  his  work.  A  friend  wrote  him  a  let- 
ter quoting  somewhat  from  "  Waiting  and  watch 
ing  for  me."  The  reply  came  back,  ;-  Xo,  I 
don't  seem  to  rest  much  in  the  hope  of  seeing  a 
throng  of  heavenly  ones  waiting  and  watching 
for  me.  They  might  be  in  better  business. 
Nor  of  hearing  echoes  of  my  songs  there.  I 
want  something  better.  The  best  things  about 
heaven,  seems  to  me,  will  be  eternal  freedom 
from  sin,  and  Jesus'  immediate  presence. 

'  There  we  shall  see  His  face 
And  never,  never  sin.'  " 

His  prayer  in  song  expresses  the  humility  and 
also  the  spiritual  aspiration  of  his  heart : 

"  More  purity  give  me, 
More  strength  to  o'ercome, 
More  freedom  from  earth-stains, 
More  longings  for  home ; 
More  fit  for  the  kingdom, 
More  used  would  I  be, 
More  blessed  and  holy 
More,  Saviour,  like  thee." 

As  to  peisonal  appearance  Mr.  Bliss  is  thus 
pictured  by  one  who  knew  him  well: 

"  He  was  tall  and  well-developed  in  his  phy- 


150  APPENDIX. 

sical  frame,  with  clustering  black  hair  and  a 
handsome  face,  possessing  easy  and  polished 
manners  and  a  very  jo}7ous  temperament,  to- 
gether with  a  wealth  of  sympathy." 

Perhaps  the  most  notable  traits  in  Mr.  Bliss' 
character  were  his  "  rock-firm  God-trust "  and 
his  cheerful  self-sacrifice. 

After  the  great  fire  in  Chicago  he  wrote  : 

"  I  think  God  is  bringing  great  good  out  of 
this  seeming  evil.  Unite  your  prayer  daily  with 
ours  that  4  after  the  fire  the  still,  small  voice  may 
be  heard  and  that  the  Spirit  may  be  poured  out 
in  this  city." 

He  wrote  a  song  of  comfort  to  cheer  those 
who  had  suffered  by  the  fire,  and  sang  it  with 
his  grand  voice  here  and  there  through  the  city 
itself  and  afterwards  in  a  tour  with  Mr.  Moody 
raising  a  relief  fund.  We  give  two  verses  of  the 
song  below  : 

"  3.    Thousands  are  homeless,  and  quick  to  their  cry 
Heaven-born  charity  yields  a  supply, 
Upward  we  glance  in  our  terrible  grief, 
*  Give  us  this  day '  brings  the  promised  relief. 

"  4.    Treasures  have  vanished  and  riches  have  flown, 
Hopes  for  the  earth-life  are  blasted  and  gone, 


APPENDIX.  151 

Courage,  O  brother,  yield  not  to  despair, 
'God  is  our  refuge,'  his  kingdom  we  share." 

Chorus. 
"  Roll  on,  roll  on,  O  billow  of  fire! 
Dash  with  thy  fury  waves  higher  and  higher 
Ours  is  a  mansion  abiding  and  sure, 
Ours  is  a  kingdom  eternal,  secure." 

During  the  sessions  of  a  Sunday-school  camp 
meeting  in  which  he  was  the  musical  leader 
there  came  up  a  very  sudden  and  severe  gale, 
rending  and  throwing  to  earth  the  pavilion  tent 
which  but  an  hour  previous  had  been  occupied 
by  several  hundred  persons.  Providentially  the 
gale  occurred  at  the  noon  hour  when  but  few 
were  under  it  and  all  these  escaped  unharmed. 

"  Is  any  one  killed  or  hurt?"  was  Mr,  Bliss' 
first  question. 

"  No." 

"Thank  God!  We  mast  have  a  praise  meet- 
ing." 

Soon  after,  at  the  opening  of  the  afternoon 
session,  with  tearful  eyes  and  beaming  face  he 
led  the  great  congregation  in  singing  : 

11  Praise  God  from  whom  all  blessings  flow." 

Perhaps  the  most  complete   evidence  of  Mr. 


152  APPENDIX. 

Bliss'  trust  in  God  was  his  actual  dependence 
upon  him  for  daily  bread. 

In  the  summer  of  1876  a  friend  congratulated 
Mrs.  Bliss  that  the  immense  sale  of  "  Gospel 
Hymns  and  Sacred  Songs  "  must  have  given 
them  at  least  ten  thousand  dollars  to  pay  down 
toward  a  home.  She  replied,  "  Mr.  Bliss  has 
not  ten  dollars  to  pay  down  on  a  home.  Since 
January  we  have  been  living  from  day  to  day, 
doing  the  Lord's  work  with  our  might  and  de- 
pending upon  what  he  sends  us.  Although  the 
illness  of  our  children  has  greatly  increased  our 
expenses  beyond  other  years  God  has  sent  us 
enough  to  supply  our  needs." 

Many  are  not  aware  that  Mr.  Bliss,  as  well  as 
Mr.  Sankey,  gave  up  the  royalty  upon  the  "  Bliss 
and  Sankey  Song  Book,"  (not  "The  Moody  and 
Sankey  Song  Book,"  as  it  is  sometimes  thought- 
lessly called )  and  thus  sacrificed  about  thirty 
thousand  dollars,  putting  the  royalty  into  the 
hands  of  Mr.  George  H.  Stuart,  Mr.  W.  E. 
Dodge,  Jr.,  and  Mr.  John  V.  Farwell,  to  use  it 
for  charitable  and  evangelistic  purposes.  "  Gos- 
pel Hymns  No.  2,"  which  Mr.  Bliss  with  Mr.  San- 
key had  just  completed  when  he  was  killed,  was 


APPENDIX.  153 

sent  forth  under  the  same  self-sacrificing  and 
benevolent  arrangement  on  the  part  of  the  au- 
thors. 

Mr.  Moody  recently  urged  Mr.  Bliss  to  take 
at  least  five  thousand  dollars  of  the  royalty  for 
himself  and  family,  saying  that  he  needed  it,  but 
he  would  not  take  a  dollar.  It  must  all  go  for 
the  Lord's  work. 

It  was  sufficient  reward  to  him  that  the  son^s 
he  had  composed  were  proclaiming  the  Gospel 
round  the  world,  being  sung  not  only  in  Europe, 
but  also  in  Africa  and  Asia.  I  recently  heard 
"  Hold  the  Fort"  in  Swedish.  A  missionary 
letter  from  Africa  reports  the  singing  of  it  there 
in  the  Zulu  language,  and  the  Bliss  and  Sankey 
collection  has  also  been  translated  and  published 
(in  part)  in  China,  in  the  native  tongue.  In 
India  also  singing  evangelists  are  using  these 
same  h}'mns. 

With  the  deep  God-trust  and  self-sacrifice  Mr. 
Bliss  combined  an  abounding  cheerfulness.  His 
beaming  face  was  a  silent  psalm  assuring  the  be- 
holder, "  Happy  is  the  man  that  hath  the  God  of 
Jacob  for  his  help." 

He  wrote  to  a  friend,  "  Dr.   V is   jollj, 


154  APPENDIX. 

great  and  good.  Some  people  are  great  and 
good,  but  can't  be  jolly.  I  can't  like  them  quite 
so  well."  He  wrote  out  his  own  heart  in  that 
verse  of  his : 

"  No  darkness  have  we  who  in  Jesus  abide, 

The  Light  of  the  world  is  Jesus ; 
"We  walk  in  the  light  when  we  follow  our  guide, 

The  Light  of  the  world  is  Jesus." 

He  has  now  realized  beyond  his  utmost  dreams 
on  earth  the  heavenly  glory  and  joy  of  which  he 
sang  iii  another  verse  of  that  same  hymn  as  well 
as  in  scores  of  others : 

"  No  need  of  the  sunshine  in  heaven  we're  told; 

The  Light  of  that  world  is  Jesus. 
The  Lamb  is  the  light  in  the  City  of  Gold; 

The  Light  of  that  world  is  Jesus." 

This  sketch  would  be  very  incomplete  with- 
out some  record  of  Mrs.  Bliss,  whom  her  hus- 
band was  pleased  to  style  "  My  faithful  assistant 
Lou."  Mrs.  Bliss  was  herself  the  composer  of 
several  choice  pieces  of  music,  both  hymns  and 
tunes;  one  of  them  a  very  beautiful  tune  to  the 
words  of  "  Rock  of  Ages,"  which  was  impres- 
sively sung  at  their  funeral  services.  When- 
ever circumstances  Avould  permit  she  attended 


APPENDIX.  155 

her  husband  in  his  public  work,  aiding  him  by 
her  voice  and  by  playing  accompaniments.  It  is 
said  that  from  her  he  received  his  first  lessons, 
both  in  singing  and  playing.  They  were  indeed 
of  "one  accord  "  in  their  noble  life  work.  When 
the  sudden  summons  came  she  was  on  the  Lord's 
errand  with  her  husband. 

u  Lovely  and  pleasant  in  their  lives,  in  their 
deaths  they  were  not  divided." 

Mr.  Bliss  leaves  a  widowed  mother  of  whom 
he  was  the  only  son,  and  two  little  ones,  Paul 
and  George,  aged  four  and  two  years.  Mr. 
Moody  asks  the  people  of  God  to  take  them  in 
charge  with  their  money  and  their  prayers. 
He  himself  has  raised  ten  thousand  dollars  for 
their  support  and  education,  and  other  free-will 
offerings  have  and  will  come  to  them  from  many 
a  Sunday-school  where  Mr.  Bliss'  songs  are 
sung,  and  prayers  will  rise  from  many  hearts 
that  God  will  keep  them  in  his  sheltering  care. 

The  memorial  service  in  honor  of  these  two 
Christian  workers  in  Chicago  was  the  largest 
meeting  ever  held  in  that  city,  showing  the  lov- 
ing esteem  in  which  he  was  held.  A  monument 
will  be  erected  to  Mr.  Bliss'  memory,  as  is  most 


156  APPENDIX. 

befitting,  but  the  most  enduring  monument  of 
his  life  will  be  "  the  good  he  has  done,"  and  is 
still  doing  by  his  music  and  his  life,  —  the  mon- 
ument he  so  often  urged  others  to  raise  for  them- 
selves, as  he  sang : 

Fading  away,  like  the  stars  of  the  morning, 
Losing  their  light  in  the  glorious  sun ; 
So  let  me  steal  away,  gently  and  lovingly, 
Only  remembered  by  what  I  have  done. 

So  in  the  harvest,  if  others  may  gather 
Sheaves  from  the  fields  that  in  spring  I  have  sown ; 
Who  plowed  or  sowed  matters  not  to  the  reaper: 
I'm  only  remembered  by  what  I  have  done. 

Fading  away  like  the  stars  of  the  morning, 
So  let  my  name  be  unhonored,  unknown ; 
Here,  or  up  yonder,  I  must  be  remembered, 
Only  remembered  by  what  I  have  done. 


HISTORIC  HYMNS. I 

Collected  by  REV.  W.  F.  CRAFTS. 

Music  arranged  under  the  supervision  of  Dr.  E.  Tourjee. 
A  COLLECTION  OF 

a  hundred  popular  Standard  Hymns,  of  which  incidents 
are  given  in  "  Trophies  of  Song."  A  pamphlet  of  thirty-two 
pages,  in  stout  covers,  which  affords 

A  CHEAP  HYMN  BOOK 

for  Sunday  Schools,  Congregational  Singing,  Praise  Meetings, 
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where  it  has  been  used,  by  furnishing  the  words,  at  a  slight 
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hymns,  "  Bible  Readings,"  Responsive  Readings,  Introduc- 
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mended by  I.  D.  Sankey,  P.  P.  Bliss,  and  other  prominent 
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TROPHIES  OF  SONG. 

By  Rev.  W.  F.  Crafts. 

WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION  BY  DK.  E.  TOURJEE. 

A  COMPILATION  OP 

200   STRIKING    BNCIDEMTS, 

connected  with  the  origin  and  history  of  our  most  popular 
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cidents make  it  valuable  to  pastors,  superintendents  and 
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THE  NAME  ABOVE    EVERY   NAME.     In  sending  forth  a 

new  and  revised  edition  of  this  work  the  Publishers  append  a  few  of  tfc« 
many  favorable  notices  which,  from  various  sources,  testify  to  its 
Catholicity,  and  its  adaptation  to  the  wants  of  the  disciples  of  our  Lord 
by  whatever  denominational  name  they  may  be  called. 

The   Name    abOVe  Every    Name*    W,  Devotional  Meditations. 
With  a  text  for  every  day  in  the  Year.     By    the  Rev.   Samuel   Cutler. 

This  little  volume,  which  is  a  gem  of  typography,  is  just  what  it  claims 
to  be  —  "devotional  and  practical/  The  pure  gold  of  the  gospel  is  here 
without  the  base  alloy  of  man's  wisdom.  It  accords  with  the  teachings 
of  the  divine  Spirit,  and  tends  to  exalt  in  the  souls  of  men  the  Christ  of 
God. 

The  texts  are  fitly  chosen,  and  the  exquisite  fragments  of  sacred  poetry 
seem  like  jewels  from  a  mine  of  inspiration.  None  can  read  this  book 
devoutly  without  being  benefited  ;  and  all  who  read  it  in  the  spirit  in  which 
it  appears  to  have  been  written,  will  lay  down  the  volume  with  higher 
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clared in  the  inspired  canticle,  "as  ointment  poured  forth"  in  its  heavenly 
fragrance.  —  Parish    Visitor. 

From,  the  Congregationisi. 

The  Name  above  Every  Name,     it  has  a  chapter  for  every 

week  in  the  year,  each  chapter  preceded  with  appropriate  passages  from 
Scripture  and  closing  with  a  choice  selection  from  devotional  poetry.  The 
whole  book  is  eminently  evangelical,  and  fitted  to  foster  the  growth  of 
true  and  genuine  piety  in  the  soul. 

The    Name   above   Every   Name.       By  the  Rev.  Samuel 

Cutler.  This  has  been  carefully  prepared  by  its  author.  The  texts  are 
for  every  day  in  the  year,  and  have  reference  to  the  Scriptural  titles  of 
our  Lord.  The  devotional  and  practical  meditations  are  for  every  week  in 
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The  work  is  exceedingly  valuable,  not  only  for  its  meditations,  but  for 
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I 


wifft<  gw&g$  iot  i§w:: 

This  popular  Pictorial  Magazine  for  the  Young    Folks,  now  entering  upon  its  Fourth 
Volume,  offers  the  following  unrivalled  attractions  to  its  readers  during  1877  :  — 

I. 

QUINNEBASSET   GIRLS. 

By  SOPHIE  MAY. 

Illustrated  by  Miss  L.  B  Humphrey-  This  delightful  Serial  for  the  grown-up  Girls  will 
run  through  the  year. 

II. 

GOOD-FOR-NOTHING  POLLY. 

By  ELLA   FARMAN. 
A  Serial  for  the  Boys,  who  will  all  be  eager  to  read  the  funny  adventures  of  "  Polly  Wilier.  '■ 

III. 

CHILD  MARIAN  ABROAD. 

By  WM.  M.   F.  ROUND, 

Of  the  New  York  Independent,  author  of  iiAchsah.'>'>  Illustrated  with  engravings  of  cel- 
ebrated spots,  and  with  portraits  drawn  from  photographs  by  Miss  C.  A.  Northam.  This 
tinique'serial  of  child-journeyhg  in  Europe  is  a  true  record  of  the  experiences  of  a  real  little 
American  girl  abroad,  with  accounts  of  her  visits  to  the  Pope,  her  playtimes  with  the  Princess 
Marie  Valerie,  her  holid  v  t  Chiselhurst  with  the  Prince  Imperial,  her  Christmas  at  Mad- 
ame McMahon's,  &c. 

IV. 

DAUGHTER   AND  L 

H v  Mrs.  HELEN  TRACY  MYERS.    A  Series  of  Practical  Housekeeping  Papers  for  Girls. 

V. 

THE  FLOSSY  AND  BOSSY  STORIES. 

For  the  Little  Folks.    By  MARGARET  H.  ECKERSON.    Illustrated  by  Jessie  Curtis. 

VI. 

AD  VENTURES  of  MIL  TIADES  PETERKIN  PA  UL. 

By  JOHN   BROVVNJOHN.     Done  in  Verse  and  Picture  for  the  Boys. 
VII. 

BEHA  VING. 

Papers  upon  Children's  Etiquette.     By  the  author  of  the  "  Ugly  Girl  Papers ." 
VIII. 

TANGLED  KNOTS. 

A  Department  of  Prize  Puzzles.     Edited  by  KIT  CLINTON. 

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Mary  Faith  Floyd,  Mrs.  Mel  R.  Colquitt,  Mrs.  Clara  Doty  Bates,  Edgar  Fawcett,  Margaret 
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Eben  Tourj^e,  and  others.     Price  $2.00  per  annum,  postage  paid. 

Address  the  Publishers,  D.    LOTHROP   &  CO., 

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